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vax-merstappen · 2 days

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undefeated pt. 1 (mv1)

more victories than defeats

summary: it’s the hungarian grand prix and max has won every race this season. when you get pole, can you finally defeat the undefeated?

series masterlist

You walk through the paddock, cameras flashing, people shouting your name. You pull your red cap lower over your eyes, trying to get through the crowd and into the safety of the Ferrari hospitality.

As Ferrari’s clear number one driver, it was no surprise that people wanted to get your picture or signature. Even just a quick sound bite would get a reporter views. And normally you’d try to stop for as many of your fans as possible, knowing that taking a few seconds out of your day would mean the world to them. But today was different. Today you were on a mission.

The Hungarian Grand Prix normally wasn’t a huge highlight on the calendar for you or the team, but today it felt different. With the new upgrades on the car and a stellar qualifying that got you onto pole position, you had a chance.

That chance was to beat Max Verstappen, the current reigning world champion. Last season he had dominated, winning all but three races, his teammate Checo Pérez taking the ones he failed to win. And this season, he had claimed all of the victories of the first twelve races. He was on track to win every race this season, setting a Formula 1 record and doing something nobody else had ever been able to do.

But not if you had any say in the situation. As his main rival on track you would do anything to stop his reign. The bad blood between you and Max ran deep, having started racing in Formula 1 the same year as him. With both of you going into your 10th season in the sport, it was clear to most people that he was the better driver and you hated that.

Maybe today would be different.

You walked into the Ferrari garage, quickly making your way over to your race engineer, Renée, and pulled her aside.

“So what’s the game plan for today? Besides keeping Max behind me and defending like crazy.”

She smiled at you. “We’re running a one stop strategy. You’re going to have to push like crazy at the start and try to get a lead. You know how aggressive he is…”

I scoff. “Aggressive is an understatement. He’s a damn maniac.”

Renée chuckled. “Yeah. Well you’ve got pole so you’ll have a slight advantage over him in second. And you’ve got your teammate Charles behind you in third, so you should have the support there. He’s been made aware that his job is to keep the rest of the grid off of you and Max. Even our odds against him.”

You nod. “Glad to know. We’ve got to win this one today. He can’t win them all.”

“He won’t. We’ve got pole, a good strategy, car upgrades, and your determination to win this one. Today will be our day.”

“Let’s hope it is,” you say, giving one last acknowledgment to Renée before walking to your driver’s room to start your pre-race ritual.

You put on your headphones and started playing your favorite hype song, practicing a few stretches that you always did before a race. As you continued to follow your routine, slowly all the noise faded away and you were left with one feeling. Determination that Max would not win.

---

As you walked out to stand for the Hungarian national anthem, you found yourself lined up directly next to the world champion himself. The tension nearly crackled in the air between you as you made eye contact with Max, his gaze more like a glare. You didn’t dare speak to him as the performer was singing and the grid kids stood before you, but you could already tell he was focused. Though he seemed nonchalant, you knew it secretly bothered him that you were on pole.

As soon as the performance ended and the drivers began to disperse, you whispered under your breath as you walked by him. “Enjoy watching my rear wing.”

You walked away before you could see if he responded.

Standing by your car, you prepared yourself to race. You needed to start strong and capitalize on your pole position. You risked a glance back at the Red Bull behind you, watching Max put on his helmet and ready himself to get in the car. You could have sworn he was looking back at you, almost as a predator looks at prey.

You climb into your car, pulling your own helmet over your head, readying for the formation lap. You give a thumbs up to the crew, watching them step away from the car and take the covers off the tires.

As you pull away from the start line, you move side to side across the track, trying to warm your tires to get better grip for the start. You knew Max would be on you instantly, trying to pass you as you went into the first corner. You went through the corners of the track on the formation lap, readying yourself for the race.

As you pulled into pole position, you watched the red lights begin to light up

Lights out and away we go.

You sped up as fast down the main straight, trying to get your car first on the inside line. You could see Max beside you, trying desperately for the same thing. As you went wheel to wheel, you nudged your car ahead of his, managing to secure the racing line for the time being.

But in your mirrors was Max Verstappen in a Red Bull, arguably one of the scariest sights in Formula 1. And as you made your way around the first few laps, you just couldn't find a way to shake him. He kept behind you, only just outside of getting DRS to pass you.

You kept speeding through the corners of the Hungaroring, sensing it was only a matter of time before he passed you. The pressure was on, the Red Bull and Ferrari rivalry at its greatest.

One pit stop each and a safety car later, you found yourself driving slowly behind the car. And in your mirrors, you could now clearly see the man himself, right on your rear wing. Any lead you had built was gone, taken away with the safety car. The lion was in striking distance and you knew it.

As the safety car moved to resume the race, you pressed the pedal full on, needing to shake the dutchman behind you. With only 10 laps left of 70, you needed to hold on.

But as good of a driver you were, Max was better. The best driver on the grid, undefeated in the first 12 races of the season. And he wouldn't let a Ferrari beat him.

You entered the main straight and you knew Max was close enough for DRS. You watched he caught up to you, going wheel to wheel as you sped through the track.

It would have been easier to accept if there'd been a fight, some sort of defense available, a challenging overtake for Max.

But he just breezed past you, as if you weren't even there. Not a threat. Not a problem. Not anything he'd ever worried about.

Even after a strenuous and hard fought race to gain a lead, Max Verstappen once again would win. His thirteenth consecutive race. Another damn record.

You finished the last nine laps of the race, still pushing but not nearly as hard. You felt defeated. Nothing you or the car was capable of would be enough. Not against him, a living legend of a driver.

As you crossed the finish line in second, you congratulated the team on their efforts on the radio, but your heart wasn't in it. Most drivers would be happy with a podium, if not elated. But not you. Not when you would be forced to spray him oncemore with champagne. Not when he would take home another trophy, which would just be another hunk of metal to him.

You climbed out of the car besides him, noticing Oscar Piastri pulling into the 3rd place spot. You could at least be a little happy for the Australian, having earned another podium in just his second season. You walked up to Oscar and congratulated him, making a point to do so before turning to Max.

"Congrats on the win," you said, your voice monotone.

"Thanks," Max replied simply. "You had a good drive there at the start."

"Not good enough," you retorted, trying and failing to hide your disdain at both him and your own failure.

"Still a podium though," Max shrugged.

"You know damn well you'd be pissed in P2."

Max looked you in the eye. "I think you should be grateful I let you lead the race for so long. My car is clearly faster than yours."

You rolled your eyes. "I don't want to do this here. Not with all the cameras."

Max had the audacity to smirk. "Suit yourself. But I did earn the win, don't deny me that."

You hated it when he was right.

You stalked away from Max on track and headed over to your team, clapping a few of the engineers and team members on the back for their performance. Sure, you were mad. But they still got you a podium position. And you wanted to delay the cooldown room as long as you could.

But you couldn't delay it that long, and god did some water sound refreshing. So you went into that room, looking at Max seated in the center chair, Oscar on his right in the 3rd place chair. You grabbed a water bottle and slumped down in the remaining seat next to Max, not saying a word.

"Could have taken that corner better," Max said, commenting on a clip of your car briefly sliding out of track limits. "Maybe that's why you lost some time to me right before the safety car."

"Thanks for the observation," you said sarcastically.

The tension in the room was palpable. You almost felt bad for Oscar Piastri, having to deal with the two of you.

"If there hadn't been that safety car, I would have had a tougher race. But I still think I could have caught you... your tires seemed to be degrading faster than mine. At least that's what the team said. Also with a few of those small mistakes like going wide on the turns..."

He kept going on, in his typical way, what the internet had dubbed Maxplaining. They were right. It was like he didn't understand that you knew your mistakes and how he had driven faster.

But anyways, you were spared as the three of you were called for the podium. Oscar went out first, followed by you.

You heard the cheers of your team and fans and you tried your hardest to be happy and excited about your podium. But when the cheers for you were eclipsed by those for Max, you couldn't pretend anymore.

You stood only begrudgingly beside him on the podium as the Dutch national anthem played for the 13th time in a row. And when he popped the champagne, even he didn't seem excited, like winning had become habitual for him and that this was an obligation, not a reward.

This was a man with more victories than defeats in the past few seasons.

A man who's wins were routine.

A man you loathed with your whole being.

You chose to spray your champagne over your own head rather than his. An act of protest and anger.

And when you left the podium, you left with stronger feelings. The taste for victory lingered on your tongue. And the desire for revenge burned stronger in your heart.

Part 2 coming!

taglist: @jehun

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen series #f1 series #mv1undefeated

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dollettodraws · 3 days

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was rewatching the box earlier, and I couldn’t help but think about how AvA 6/AvA s3 is going to mess up second so bad,,, like MORE than it already has

everyone’s already talked about vic and cho regarding it so I won’t reiterate it here, and idk if anyone else has talked about this so apologies in advance if they have but bruh just imagine this

in probably less than a day, your entire world changes- one second it’s just another regular day with you and your friends and all of a sudden you’re kidnapped alongside this other stick that as far as you’re aware is the most powerful dude ever, and ends up asking for your help and basically dragged you into a fight that wasn’t even yours. then you realise the one responsible is someone like you, a fellow hollowhead who has no special abilities compared to the immense power from dark and chosen. but then oh wait nvm you DO have powers, powers so intense that they had the potential to kill someone, and you can’t even properly process or talk about it with anyone since the moment you found out about this forgotten memory, they lock you up more intensely,,

and it’s only been 2 episodes so far, and there’s supposed to be 5 more, and I can only imagine how WILD it’s gonna get from here on out jdhjshdhcjd

eventually, second finds out his friends were after him, which probably wouldn’t surprise him given everything they’ve been through, but considering everything rocket corp has done so far, second would be extra fearful for them, and what would happen if they got their hands on em. and then he realises that yellow’s been kidnapped too, and suddenly he’s in even more distress.

second’s powers were activated through immense physical and mental trauma, so what’s going to happen to him next if he ends up activating them again in this season??? I can only speculate it’s going to be so much more fucked up, considering how dark season 3 has already been.

and then of course, there’s his relationship with alan, and how that’s going to be impacted (the character, not him irl)

despite the rough patch that was the beginning of their relationship, (yk, that rough patch being deleting his friends and threatening to delete him- wonder who that reminds me of haha :’D) they’ve been having it good and leaving at peace with each other +the colour gang for almost a decade at this point. alan is his creator, and he and the cg know that alan’s a good person. at least, now he is. but I have a feeling in season 3, alan’s past with his previous creations will come to light and suddenly second is questioning everything he thought he knew about the man that he sees as basically a father.

aside from second, literally all of alan’s creations have a vendetta against him (chosen is a bit iffy on this one, despite everything he’s still trying to protect alan from victim, but i still think there’d be a tinge of bitterness given everything he went through because of him).

when dark was the antagonist, his code led him to being extremely destructive, and (in my personal head canon lmao) he was doing everything he could to just fight against the fact that the one person he was SUPPOSED to destroy was his only true friend, and who better to destroy than the very person who gave him that code in the first place?

then there’s victim, who was created solely to be a discardable toy, something to play around with and beat up, and when he got bored, essentially tossed him into the void without a second thought. and now he’s back 17 years later, having taken everything he could from that less than 2 minutes he was alive and tortured, and created all this (rocket corp) to get back at alan and destroy him too.

and of course there’s chosen, who amongst the hollowheads seems to be the only one second can get along with- and he finds out that cho has been through literal hell and back, and that he was alan’s pop up slave and was left isolated and alone and met with nothing but neglect and disregard for the better part of 5 years, and his one confident was programmed to literally kill him, all thanks to, who else- but alan.

and second is in even more dismay and questioning everything. alan couldn’t have really done all that, right? he was a good person, he treats him and the cg so well,, and then he remembers.

wasn’t second going to be deleted by alan at the last second too?

he only let him live at the prospect he could offer something to him.

but that was years ago, he’s not like that anymore right? before, he could answer that question with confidence. I mean, he and the gang have messed up the pc multiple times at this point (ahem, AvM and the actual shorts lmfao) and he hasn’t punished them that gravely! but now that he knows the truth? would he get rid of them now?

aside from what might happen to him physically (given how we’ve seen how rocket corps handles things) the amount of damage this season is just going to do to second’s psyche is INSANE, and I’ve been thinking about it a lot now.

vic and cho, who are basically his brothers- they hate their creator for playing god with them and giving them the worst treatment possible. and then years later, he creates second, who was the only one to see alan’s good nature- and even though it’s not his fault, he would probably feel some sort of guilt and go over and over in his head as to why he didn’t end up like them. if he wasn’t a good animator, would his entire story be completely different?

not to mention that second is just so,,,different from the colour gang. he doesn’t look like them, he wasn’t created to be on a site like them, he was created to be, well- ‘the chosen one’s return’. he knew he was different before, but it didn’t bother him as much. and now, well I feel like this new season is just going to give second a massive identity and/or existential crisis

anyways I think about the hollowheads way too much I’m very normal about this ANYWAYS SNSNDNJDJDJD

#alan becker #animation vs animator #animator vs animation #ava tsc #ava the second coming #ava headcanons #does this count as a headcanon #idk but I’ll list it anyway idk how to tag this #I’ve just been thinking about this a lot lately. like…a lot a lot #second my poor baby #his entire family is fucked #doesn’t help that I picture him to be the youngest #ik alan said he was the oldest but the fact he came to life after the others were already around makes me question it #I should probably tag all my ramblings idk

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miyamiwu · 2 days

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Here’s my theory:

Kaiser will goal, but not on his own.

As I said in my Kaiser trauma meta, internal development comes first before external development. Kaiser is currently undergoing internal development; specifically, he’s at the Redefining Proof of Existence stage.

He now recognizes what his true ego is and remembers what the ball really means to him.

But knowing is one thing. Actually applying what you know is another.

Look at Nagi. Look at Rin.

They’ve been around for much longer, but their issues still aren’t resolved. No way is Kaiser beating them to it.

Besides, for Kaiser to even complete the Redefining stage, he must first complete the Recognizing Love stage—which is preceded by the Seeing Himself as Human stage. (“Love” here doesn’t have to be romantic.)

Everything that made me feel like I had become ‘human’… Strip it all away...

He is so close to getting it. Yes, those titles, glory, and pride aren’t what prove his existence and aren’t what make him human. But…

Fighting to prove my current glory won’t allow me to prove my existence any further...

He got to this conclusion by still thinking he needs to actively prove his existence. He believes that he still needs other things to make him “human.” He’s just replacing those superficial titles with his newfound ego to justify why he must exist and…

It’s honestly depressing.

Oh Michael, you are already enough.

You don’t need a goal to prove that you are worthy. Just being alive means you deserve to exist.

And until Kaiser realizes that… he cannot win.

So on his next attempt to goal, he will miss. And it will crush him.

The first stage of development is the Finding Non-Humans stage. And this is where Ness comes in.

Ness still hasn’t shown any growth in this match, and it’s time for him to step up. All he needs to do is create a situation where Kaiser can have a non-moving ball for a few seconds, enough for Kaiser to shoot it without anyone getting in his way. Remember, Kaiser can already do his new shot. He just can’t do it yet with moving balls.

Kaiser being able to goal in such an “easy” circumstance would also leave him, by the end of the match, at just the right level of threatening to Isagi while still having room for growth.

Kaiser is Isagi’s only rival on the world stage, and for him to remain a rival, he must do something in this match. But a perfect goal would kill off all his chances for growth. A semi-perfect goal, however, would give him something else to strive towards.

So Kaiser will goal, but he can only do it with Ness paving the way for him.

#or kaneshiro could kill kainess entirely and leave ness in the dust aaaaaah #praying that he doesn’t do that #kainess #michael kaiser #alexis ness #blue lock #blue lock theory #blue lock analysis #blue lock meta #blue lock leaks #blue lock manga #blue lock spoilers #miyamiwu.meta #miyamiwu.src

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themultifandomgal · 2 days

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can you do a hank voight x reader where she had a dream about him and is avoiding him untill he corners her and she admits and the rest is up to you!!

Hank Voight- Stop Avoiding Me

Just a small request hope you enjoy!

Hank Voigt a man I secretly like, secretly because 1 I work for him and 2 he’s double my age. It’s almost like a forbidden romance type of thing, but I know there’s no way he feels the same. I’ve been trying to avoid him any time I can. He walks into the kitchen I walk out. And now to add on to this I woke up this morning from having a dream about Hank, about how he kissed my lips, then my jaw and down my neck.

Interrupting my thinking a cup is placed on my desk. I look up to see my partner Jay

“Thanks”

“Looked like you needed it. Tough night last night?” He asks me

“Something like that” I take a small sip of coffee before looking back at my computer

“You want to talk about whatever is bothering you?”

“What makes you think somethings bothering me?” I frown turning on my swivel chair go face Jay who’s now got his eyebrows raised

“You’ve been staring at Voights office door for the last 20 minute. What did you do?”

“Nothing, I just… nothing I’m fine. Anyway thanks for the coffee. You better get back to writing the assault report. Voight will want it by the end of the day. Just as I say that Hank leaves his office. His tight shirt fitting around his muscles, shaking my head I look back to my computer screen trying to forget my dream last night

“YN Jay I need you to check out a wear house. Lindsey and I will be your back up but I’ve had a tip-off that we’re going to find drugs and possible weapons. Gear up” he says. Quickly I get to my feet and move passed Jay towards the lockers so I can grab my vest. I begin trying to do it up but fail miserably, sighing I leave the locker room and outside where Jay, Erin and Hank are all waiting

“Need some help?” Hank asks looking at me

“Err Jay can you” I point towards my back signalling I need help with my vest. Nodding his head he turns me around and does up my vest. I walk past Erin and Hank and get into the car. I can see from the wing mirror Hank is talking to Jay who then shrugs his shoulders before walking to the drivers side of the car. He starts it up and we make our way to the wearhouse.

Walking through we split off in pairs, Jay and I walking back to back with our guns in our hands

“No one else is here YN, you going to tell me know what’s going on?”

“Really Jay you want to do this now?” I question

“Yes because you won’t tell me when Voight is around. He’s not here so tell me what’s going on. What did you do?”

“I had a sex dream about him alright. I’ve been avoiding him because I like him and last night I had a sex dream. I know it’s wrong but fuck Jay I….” Before I can continue I hear gun shots being fired. Jay pulls me down behind an abandoned car

“You both ok?” Voight radios to me

“Yeah we’re fine” I reply as Jay starts shooting back

“Lindsay and I are coming in” I hear as I help Jay out by shooting back.

Erin and Jay arrest 2 men at the wearhouse while I do a sweep to make sure I’ve missed no one

“YLN” I hear Voight, but try to ignore him and continue walking “YN will you stop! What’s going on. Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not” I say still walking away

“YN” I feel him push me towards a wall, turning me to face him. I don’t think I’ve ever been this close to him before…. well in the real world, in my dream last night…. No YN stop “tell me”

“I can’t” I say quietly looking into his eyes

“Why?”

“Because it will ruin everything. I’ll get transferred and…” for the third time today I’m cut off, but this time is by Hank kissing me. I kiss him back before we pull apart

“Sorry I didn’t know how else to shut you up”

“Really?” I chuckle “you really didn’t know how else to get me to stop?” Hank just shrugs “why did you kiss me?” I frown

“Why do you think YN? Why do you think I always join you on busts like this? You won’t be transferred and your not ruining anything. We’re both consenting adults” Hank then starts to let me go. We start to walk back to the car outside “next time you have a dream like that just tell me and I’ll help” I freeze at that

“How did you know about that. I only told Jay”

“Your partner can be an idiot sometimes. Had his radio on”

“I’m gonna kill him” I say between gritted teeth making Hank laugh at me. We all out of the building and stood by the car is a guilty looking Jay and Erin smirking

“Jason mother fucking Halstead I hope you you have your bullet proof vest on because I’m about to murder your ass!” I shout storming over to him. I guess though if he hadn’t of done that Hank wouldn’t have kissed me so maybe I should be thanking him.

#one chicago #one chicago imagine #chicago pd #hank voight x reader #hank voight #hank voight imagine

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gaerfinn · 4 months

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Hey. Yes, you. Come here. Come. Listen close.

I’m going to blow your mind. Come. Listen.

I see you struggling, and I want to help you out:

you don’t have to stay in the Harry Potter fandom if you don’t like Harry Potter anymore.

I know! Crazy, right? Nobody’s keeping you from reading other books. And other fics. And generally spending your time doing something you actually like instead of continuously complaining about this one series and how badly written and damaging it is.

You are hereby officially freed from the shackles of Harry Potter, free to roam the world and find something you actually enjoy. Let yourself forget about this book. Go, thrive and be happy.

#Harry Potter #you are FREE #you can CHOOSE how to spend your free time #please spend it wisely #you only have one life #it would be a pity to spend it chronically annoyed and complaining #read another book #it’s okay #the world won’t end if you do something else #leave the fandom to those who actually like it #and if the fandom dies out #that is FINE #Just stop poisoning your own mind with all this bitterness #be happy and healthy #wolfstar

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aeoris4lovers · 7 months

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watching ofmd and thinking about the potential parallels between ed and izzy’s relationship and astrid and eadwulf’s. the leader and the dog that follows them around. the one all the good guys reach out to, who they make a connection with, and the one who represents everything they want to leave behind, who’s only really allowed to stick around because you can’t just ask a person to give up their shadow. the way eadwulf always looks to astrid, always follows her lead in the end even if he disagrees. “i have love for you.” the way astrid doesn’t notice wulf dying on the ground. “i loved you best i could.” two people who have watched each other being molded into what they are now, who have been through hell together, who love each other as much as they hate each other as much as they don’t know how to be anything else to each other, who can’t stop hurting each other can’t stop betraying each other can’t stop running back to each other, who are fused to each other like a cauterized wound.

#read a fic where essek said something to wulf about how he doesn’t like how she uses him #and ive never stopped thinking about it since #how the flip side of his loyalty is that she doesn’t have to try to get him to stick around #she can treat him however she wants #use him however she needs #and he’ll still be there because where in the world else could he go #who could he go to if not her #and she knows that and he knows she knows that #and neither of them know how fucked up it is because they never learned to be any other way #they just keep going like that forever and ever #hurtling toward an inevitable explosive ending that would have come a long time ago if they were anyone else #GOD i can’t stop thinking about them they make me insane #bonded pair do not separate. do not bother separating. even if you try you won’t be able to find where one ends and the other begins #blumenduo #astrid becke #eadwulf grieve #astrid beck #eodwulf grieve #cr headcanons #critical role

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arthur-r · 1 month

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as usual i am up late into the night planning my future when i should be: getting a good nights sleep so that i even have a future!!

#i have work in seven and a half hours. so i should really be getting to bed #BUT i officially made my final definitive degree plan!!!! i mean not the actual classes but all the requirements i have to meet and how!!#(in order to earn: history and information science double major. with certificates in material culture and classics)#and i’m genuinely excited for every single class i have to take except for human-computer interaction #just cause i know it’s gonna get overly technical in ways that won’t quite apply to my future #anyway every single other thing i’m gonna do is very cool and exciting. so everything is good really #but i should be sleeping. and i’m not. as usual 🤧#idk wish me luck!!!! i’m so hyped about my degree plan though #i’ll go into more detail another time. i’m very excited #ANYWAY goodnight!!!! can’t be so busy planning my future in library science that i DONT GO TO MY SHELVING JOB #kind of important to actually go to work for the library that employs me….#and then i might go see a first-printing roget’s thesaurus!!!! or i’ll sleep. we’ll see #followed by lunch with GUY WHO IS THE WORST KILL HIM WITH HAMMERS #(there is nothing really wrong with me he just keeps kind of being mean to me and also expecting me to fall in love with him. but like #extremely passively and not manipulatively it’s just like. hey buddy you’re doing this friendship wrong….)#anyway then i have a class and after that i have an hour to rest. and then a phone call and then a lot of homework #(ten page paper draft due in a week and a half!! so it’s time to start writing the actual body of it)#and then i sleep for a LONG time and then work again on saturday. and then sleepover with somebody i have a crush on??#and then be normal all day on sunday and do a little more paper writing. and programming homework. and whatever else #and then keep up with the slog for three weeks!!!! and all of a sudden it’s summer!!!!#projects left this year: material culture paper (entirely unstarted. but may research the thesaurus and just win!!!!)#history project (draft due the monday after next and real paper due a week after classes end)#one more programming assignment where i adapt my recipe doubler project (probably. it’s getting stupid at this point but it’s what i got!!)#and a programming test in two weeks and then the final a week after that. then no more programming #and then i just have my weekly latin tests and a latin final on may 5th. and then EVERYTHING IS DONE #ok i got this. sorry for walking through my schedule in the tags it’s how i remember what’s real #can’t believe my fucking partner just kind of walked out on me there hello???? like. we should be powering through finals together #but i’m genuinely better off without him so i guess it’s just whatever. trash took itself out or something??#anyway. i’m so regular. and i have work in the morning. and i’m going to sleep #thank you world. goodnight

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pastel-rights · 2 months

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And then I finally end it off with some doodles of them… they make me feel things.

#ringmaster doodles #sona art #( they’re very much the theme of. love in the face of the neverending march of time. )#( being immortal and knowing you will outlive the man you love because someone else deemed he unworthy of eternal life. )#( he may still have tens of thousands of years left. sure. but you know that those will go by and he’ll disappear in the blink of an eye. )#( and you’ll sit there on his death bed. wondering why did things end up like this? )#( wondering what you did wrong. and if you could have done something different. you’ll always ask yourself. )#( if he lives a life of happiness and comfort or did he live a life as gruesome and miserable as the wars on earth? but you won’t know. )#( and the more you think about it. the more you realize it. how nihilistic he was. and how he never seemed to smile even in the good times.#he always seemed to have a frown or a scowl on his face. he always seems bothered and unhappy. )#( so you wonder if it was something you did. because you know you aren’t perfect. you’re hardly good. )#( you wonder if he’s mad at you. maybe he was. but he doesn’t have the heart to stay mad. )#( and that’s love in the face of adversity. knowing that no matter how bad it gets. he loves you as you love him. )#( and you wonder why he never smiles. because he truly never does. and so you ask him. honest and true. )#( and he tells you there isn’t anything worth smiling for. nothing in this whole world. )#( but he smiles at you. it’s always small. and it’s always brief. )#( but that smile. that smile means love. )#( that hug. as flimsy as it may be. that hug means love. )#( of course. he isn’t affectionate. if anything. he detests it. he hates physical contact of any kind. you’ve noticed. )#( which is a shame. you love your hugs and your kisses and your hand holding. )#( but even if he doesn’t like it. he lets you do it. because it makes you happy. )#( and you learn that when you’re happy. he’s a little less miserable. )#( of course. not all love is equal. and not all love is fair. )#( the love from a lover and the love from the father can never equate to one another. )#( no one will love you in the same way a father or mother loves you. in the same manner. no one will ever love you the way I do. )#( because my love will remain with you. long after I disappear. )#( and as bitter as the idea of my own existence coming to an end is. knowing I did all of this for. essentially nothing. )#( that I’ve gone through all this pain and suffering and hardship just for it to all amount to nothing. for it to be fucking useless to try.#I get to die knowing that you’ll always love and be loved. and that’s enough for me… )#( … maybe there is something worth smiling for after all. )

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palms-upturned · 5 months

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Frustrates me to no end seeing people say “what’s your alternative to voting blue? Stage a revolution right now? This second? Get real, you’re posting on your computer instead of firebombing walmarts.” I don’t think that you understand what people are actually doing. I know for myself, I’ve been reading more history and theory than I ever have before. I’ve been marching. I’ve been getting involved with labor activism. I’ve been doing strategic research. I’ve tried to archive and share resources. I’ve watched other people do WAY more than I ever have or probably could. I’ve seen people occupy arms manufacturing sites and hold wildcat strikes and disrupt daily life as much as possible. We’ve all seen this happening at unprecedented levels for months now. And most of all, I’ve seen Palestinians telling us, rightfully full of anger, do not ever go back to how things were before. Do not turn away from what’s happening and your own complicity in it.

This is not something that we can vote our way out of. Our state is built on the same violence being inflicted on the people of Palestine. We helped to build Israel. We are still arming it and funding the “war” right now. Even the most half hearted measures from international bodies like the UN to take the bare minimum of a stance against genocide are quashed by the US. As they always have been, our power and resources are used to reinforce imperial and colonial hegemony. That remains the same no matter who is sitting in the Oval Office. And so does our own struggle for liberation. Meaningful change is never, ever going to come from within. We force the change to happen, as we always have.

If you can understand intersectionality, then surely you can understand this: we are not going to free ourselves by sacrificing colonized people. You may vote blue, and for you it could be a matter of life and death. Believe me, as a poor disabled person in a red state who almost killed myself over medical debt, I know the stakes. But I think you have to own the fact that you are empowering perpetrators of genocide and breaking solidarity with colonized people, not even to liberate yourself, but just to bargain with the oppressor for your life. That Palestinians and everyone else who we have harmed are going to be angry and they are more than within their rights. Instead of deflecting by just assuming that no one else is capable of putting their money where their mouth is and actually trying to lay groundwork for change, just do whatever you feel you have to do and sit with the reality of the situation.

Palestine will be free, we will be free, the whole world will someday be free. But for now, this is where we are, and we won’t free ourselves by operating like crabs in a bucket. Get organized, take care of each other, commit to solidarity. Empower yourself and each other rather than the state.

#meg talks #palestine #and also stop embarrassing yourself w the fire bombing walmart jokes and read some actual theory

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tender-rosiey · 2 months

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How do you think sukuna would act with a baby girl?? The same as his son? Maybe a bit more soft since he reminds him of reader?

troublesome — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: i have something else in store for geto <3

sukuna never planned on becoming a parent, but then you became pregnant. he had two choices: kill the kid from now or let you give birth to it.

he spent a good couple of days deciding on what to do, until he finally made his mind and headed to your room, swiftly. there you were in all your glory, eyes snapping to your husband the moment he entered.

you smiled, standing up, “hey, sukuna.” then walked to him and placed a small kiss on his cheek.

he, however, said nothing and simply kept staring you down then he said a simple phrase, “the kid.”

your eyes widened, your thoughts jumbled, and your nerves were all over the place. still, you manage to get out a response, “what about it?”

he stayed silent, and it drove you over the edge. you needed him to say something—anything. will he let you have it, or will he kill it? he was never fond of kids, always killed them first in his raids. will your own child with him bear the same fate as the others he had slaughtered and even eaten?

is this a joke from the universe? you married the king of curses, and, therefore, your punishment is never getting to experience the joy of having kids? but even if he does end up choosing wanting to kill it, how will he—

“I will let you keep it.”

you never thought a simple sentence would induce so much happiness in you. you cup his face and start showering him in kisses, and you unceasingly thank him, “thank you, sukuna! thank you so much!”

he grunts, hand resting on your waist, “just don’t cause me trouble, and it better be a boy.” he takes hold of your chin and makes you lock eyes with him, “I don’t want a whiny, slimy little girl.”

and because the world loves him so much, he was indeed graced with a whiny, slimy little girl.

the moment the woman announced that it’s a girl, your face paled, and your husband’s frown could’ve never been deeper. his eyes traced every action that happened from the cleaning of the baby to the little girl being nestled cozily in your arms.

she starts calming down when she feels the warmth of your skin against her own. slowly, her breathing evens out, and she falls into a deep slumber.

the servants rush out of the room, leaving you, your husband, and your newborn daughter.

you don’t know what to do: do you speak first or do you wait for him to do it? you keep searching his face for any positive emotion, something that would give you hope and make you forget about his sharp scowl.

he puts a hand out and orders, “hand her to me.”

your heart fell to your stomach. there’s nothing you could do. whatever he decided on was what will happen. you desperately wanted to hold her for a bit longer and to feel her comforting weight in your arms.

though, your husband got impatient, eyes sharply looking you in the eyes, and he glowered, “y/n.”

despite your heart screaming and trying to resist ever letting him touch a single hair on your baby, you shakily put her in his hand. she starts huffing, puffing, and squirming in his hold. fearing the worst, you squeezed your eyes shut.

you simply won’t be able to take witnessing your daughter’s slaughter with your very own eyes.

you expect to hear a slash, a little thud, but you’re met with nothing, just a groan from your husband as he mutters, “she is small.”

you blink owlishly then stare at him. he is slowly raising and lowering the hand—an attempt to rock her maybe—that has your baby in it. then, he situates her against his chest.

he looks up to you and states, “she is also ugly.”

frowning, you retort, “that’s because of your genes.”

your husband quirks an eyebrow, “you’re balantly insulting me even after I spared it?”

“her.”

“same difference.”

sukuna shuffles until he is seated beside you and silently pulls you into his embrace.

you just took notice of how he is trying to avoid touching her with his nails and how his hold on her is rather gentle. the little girl lets out a small sigh then snuggles into his chest. her dad copies her with a sigh of his own then he grunts, “not a single word.”

a small giddy giggle escapes you, and you nuzzle into his chest in turn. he squeezes you lightly, before scoffing, “or a sound.”

later on that day, after you were transferred into the master bedroom along with your daughter, you’re left to rest in the expansive bed with your daughter napping in the crib right under the window.

you thought the light might give her some sort of comfort—call it a mother’s instinct. you wanted her to grow up in the light, not to be sheltered and hidden in shadows. who knows if these shadows will devour whole or not.

but you will try your best to provide her with a normal life.

as you start to drift off to sleep, you take note of a large figure standing in front of the window. he is blocking the light from sky—at least the one from the window above her crib. quickly, you are able to define its features and identify that it’s—thank god—your husband.

he has this sort of contemplating look on his face, a solemn look, maybe a bit troubled too. he keeps staring at the sleeping baby as she takes small and slow breaths.

she is fragile, he knows. he also knows that a flick of his finger will end her right then and there.

but he finds his hand only capable of gently caressing her cheek, and a wave of shock is sent through him when his daughter leans toward his touch. his daughter. he heaves a sigh and a frown is etched onto his face.

this is going to be a troublesome journey.

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do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

#sukuna ryomen #sukuna x y/n #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #ryomen x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk x y/n #jjk sukuna x reader

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floral-hex · 1 year

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your brain really will just decide to fuck up your whole day before you even wake up.

#giving me stupid romantic dreams #now I’ve gotta wake up full of all this longing #i have little real world desire to be with anyone right now but that doesn’t stop my dreams from telling me otherwise #then I wake up and search Facebook for some random person I had a crush on 15 years ago #that’s creepy! and it only makes me feel worse thinking about how I ‘missed out’ or something self deprecating like that #buddy.. the past is gone and being depressed about it won’t get you smooched #not that I want to be smooched…#dumb #okay I kinda do but not nearly enough to even try to be social with anyone.#right now it’s just me doing me things #any time I try to add someone else it always messes my life up #not that I’m blaming other people. relationships just mean I usually end up screwing myself up before things are through #none of this is important why am I mentioning this jeez #anyway… I spent all day yesterday with food poisoning but now I can actually eat junk so I’m gonna go do that..#you can ignore this #text

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gojorgeous · 4 months

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"sure thing"

pairing: target!gojo x assassin!fem!reader summary: you've been hired to kill the satoru gojo. how will you pull it off... and what will you do when he figures it out? content: MDNI (18+ only), nsfw, darkish content (all is well in the end), no established relationship, assassins/organized crime, blackmail, mention of a “suicide mission”, attempted murder (uhhhh), hidden identity, intended use of sex as a means to an end, mating press, unprotected sex, p->v, creampie, oral (fem!receiving), praise, pet names (gorgeous/sweetheart/baby), slight aftercare. a/n: me 🤝 describing gojo as having dimples welcome to my second 1k followers event fic! At this rate tho i’m going to hit 2k before i finish the 1k event LMAO. not that i'm complaining hehe. thank you for being patient and for all the support on my recent works! i really appreciate every ask, comment, follow, reblog, everything. they mean the world to me. check out the rest of my 1k event here. enjoy and remember that ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED! creds: twitter template by @cafekitsune wc: 7.8k

“Who?!”

No fucking way. There’s no way he just said what you think he said.

“You heard me,” he scowls. He glares at you from across the desk. His seat is one of those cushy little office chairs, of course. Yours is plastic– cold and hard.

“Are you fucking insane?” you hiss. There’s no other explanation for what he’s asking you to do. He’s lost his fucking mind.

“We have a client willing to pay big money for this. Big money for just an attempt,” he answers.

You laugh, but there’s absolutely nothing funny about this conversation. “Oh, I’m sure you do. Probably because he’s practically invincible. I’ll never even lay a hand on him.”

Your “boss”, for lack of a better term, only scowls harder, the wrinkles forming near his eyes etching deeper in his skin. “Well, you’d best find a way to make it work. You’re taking this job. That’s final.” You scoff. Maybe you should recommend he see someone… “No. There’s no way. I’m not doing this.” You stand, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “Get someone else to go on your suicide mission.” You take a couple strides toward the door before two very large men move to block your path.

“Not so fast,” your boss calls. You pause, eyeing up your competition. You could definitely take them if you needed to. You sense only a very faint amount of cursed energy coming from each of them– not even enough to make you blink– but something in your boss’s tone makes you turn back.

“Yes?” You cross your arms over your chest, fingering a blade hidden in your breast pocket.

He fiddles around in his pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lighting up right there in his office. You don’t try to hide the way your nose scrunches up. “You want to do this job.”

Your eyes narrow. Something tells you you’re not going to like what comes next. “And why’s that?”

He takes a long puff, letting the smoke flowing out of his lungs with a slow exhale. “Because otherwise that little brother of yours is gonna be…” he pauses to give you a smile that makes your stomach churn. “Hmm… a lot smaller, shall we say? Maybe in several limb sized pieces?”

You think your heart stops. Time halts as ice runs through your veins. Nobody knows about your brother. At least, they didn’t.

Your boss’s smile grows even wider. In all your time as an assassin, you’ve never wanted to kill someone more. But you know you can’t. Just an attempt on his life will end your brother’s.

“Don’t worry. He’s all tucked away and safe at home where you left him.” Just a tiny piece of your heart thaws with relief. “But try to run with him, or run yourself, and he won’t be safe much longer.” Your pulse pounds so viciously you’re sure everyone can hear. A bead of sweat rolls down your neck. “Now, will you accept the assignment?”

Your jaw clenches. He got you. In all these years of working for him you’ve been careful, meticulous about hiding every piece of your personal life to avoid situations just like this. But he still got you. He got you.

“Yes,” you breathe. You have no choice. You will either kill Satoru Gojo or you will die trying.

“Good,” is all he says, and then you’re being escorted out of the office wondering where the hell you went wrong.

It’s been three weeks since that fateful meeting with your boss. True to his word, your brother has remained unharmed, but you see his lackeys lurking around every corner. Neither you nor your brother are truly safe and you never will be again unless you can pull this off and then put together some plan to escape your boss’s clutches.

You’ll fail. You know you will. The thought eats you up inside with every waking moment.

You’ve done your best to learn every possible piece of information about Satoru Gojo in the past two weeks. You know you can’t tail him closely– he’d pick up on your cursed energy and notice your incessant presence, so you’ve had to study from a distance with only minimal moments of proximity. You know where he works, who he works with, what restaurants, bars, and clubs he frequents and what days of the week he tends to visit. You know what his order is at his favorite ramen restaurant, where he lives, what time he wakes up. Hell, you know what fucking brand of dish soap he uses. He lives a surprisingly… predictable lifestyle. He makes no attempt to switch up his schedule or cover his tracks. In any other situation he’d be every assassin’s dream, but this is Satoru Gojo and Satoru Gojo doesn’t need to worry about assassins– assassins need to worry about him.

It took you the first week to come up with a plan. You had no clue how you were going to get close to him, much less kill him, and his infinity technique was going to prove particularly problematic. How were you supposed to kill him when you couldn’t even touch him? You had to get him in a situation in which he would willingly let his guard down for you.

You’d been on the subway when it hit you. Sex. You’d get him to have sex with you. If you could get him to take you home, he’d have to turn infinity off for at least a short time. That would be your time to strike.

You’d spent the next two weeks primping yourself. You’d bought the most expensive dress you’d ever owned, got a mani-pedi, whitened your teeth, and spent a small fortune on makeup. Considering your circumstances, you thought your plan was quite a good one. You knew when he’d go out to the bar with his friends, which bar he’d go to, how long he’d stay, how he’d get a taxi home. You also knew when you’d arrive, how long you’d stay, and how you’d get a taxi with him– everything planned perfectly to best catch his attention. But for all your planning, there was still one thing you didn’t know. What kind of woman did Satoru Gojo go for? Someone submissive? Teasing? Aggressive? Playful? In all your time tracking him you’d never seen him take somebody home. It struck you as… odd. He was Satoru Gojo, renowned for his power, wealth, and good looks– surely he had women falling at his feet. Maybe he was just a little more… selective. If that was the case you’d have to be even quicker on your feet when you finally met him. And that time is now.

You’re in your bathroom, checking your makeup one last time before heading out the door. Your brother sleeps soundly in the room down the hall, safe for the time being. You’ve contacted a friend, one who is at least willing to try to get him out if– when– you fail. You doubt it will be enough.

You make your way to his room. A quick peek inside reveals he’s snuggled up with a plushie elephant that he carries around like they’re attached at the hip. You creep inside, a sad smile on your lips. This may very well be the last time you see him. You brush a stray lock of hair from his eyes and press a kiss to the crown of his head. With one last whispered ‘I love you’, you’re out the door. If you linger, you won’t be able to go– and you have to. For him.

The streets of Tokyo are cold tonight, like the weather knows what you’re about to attempt, like it’s preparing for death, for failure. For your failure.

The club you arrive at is upscale, and one where you’ve already tipped off the bouncer to let you bypass the line. You hear a few groans from the people behind you as you saunter straight inside.

You’re conscious of every little move from the second you step inside. At any moment, he could see you and it could make or break your entire plan.

You press your shoulders back. You have a plan– stick to it.

You make your way over to the bar, weaving your way between groups of people who are somewhere between giggling a little too loudly and tripping over their own feet.

You find a free space at the bar and lean up onto your elbows, your eyes screening the bartenders. You smile when you see a familiar face.

“Hey, Dean,” you call.

He turns and the sight of his friendly green eyes sets you a little more at ease.

“Oh, shit. Hey!” He slings a towel over his shoulder and comes to stand across from you. “You’re back,” he says. You nod and smile softly. Ever since you’d determined this would be the place you’d been coming periodically, chatting up the bartenders. The last thing you needed was to stand around in a corner alone with seemingly no friends. That wouldn’t attract anyone, much less Satoru Gojo.

Out of all the bartenders, Dean was your favorite– and you’d been oh so happy to learn that his schedule put him on every Friday night.

“Yeah. Long day at work.”

A smile pulls at his lips, but there’s a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “The usual, then?”

You nod solemnly. “That’d be great. Thanks.”

You watch him prepare the drink for you, feeling a little bad that it’s all a lie. There’s no bad day at work, you didn’t just happen to come in here one day and strike up a conversation with him. All of this is premeditated, planned, and it feels… lonely. It feels lonely to know that on what is probably your last night on earth you are surrounded by people who only think they know you.

“So, anything new happening?” Dean drops your drink in front of you and you have a feeling it’s filled with a little more vodka than he’s supposed to put in there.

Your eyes shift around the bar as subtly as you can manage. As much as you want to seem like you fit in, you also need to find Gojo. It’s a fine balance.

You shrug. “Yeah, I guess I just feel like a lot of things are going to be changing for me pretty soon.”

His brows pull together and the look he gives you is one of genuine interest and concern. It makes your heart wrench. “How so?”

You swallow. “Dunno. Just… everything.”

There’s a moment of silence and then the tapping of a finger on your glass. “Damn, girl. Drink up. You need it.”

You can’t help but smile. You have a feeling that Dean would have been a good friend of yours in another life.

You take his advice, though, and bring your drink to your lips and force a smile. You can’t be moping– not tonight.

The next twenty minutes are spent with Dean. Even when he’s making other drinks he’s still chatting with you, still being a good… friend. You dread leaving your little haven at the bar. The time is coming when you’ll have to seek out your target.

You’re shocked when it’s the other way around.

“Hey, gorgeous.” There’s a light brush on your shoulder and you turn. It takes all you have to keep your features schooled and calm. Satoru fucking Gojo just tapped your shoulder.

Nothing prepared you for how handsome he is up close. All those days of research, of tracking and tailing– none of it does the real thing justice. Even with those stupid sunglasses inside… he’s fucking beautiful. “I’ll pay for all of your drinks tonight if you let me skip this hideous line,” he whines.

You give yourself no more than a second to recover. You school your features into a smirk. You glance at Dean with an ‘is this okay?’ look. He just smiles and shrugs.

You turn back to Gojo, bracing yourself this time for the beauty you’re about to face. You meet his gaze and know you could get lost in it. “Be my guest.”

His smile nearly blinds you and his dimples nearly make you pass out. Still, you keep your cool.

“Yesssss!” He looks like a puppy just offered a bone.

He spills his drink order to Dean and it’s far more than could possibly be just for him. He’s here with his friends, then. Probably the blonde man who always looks too tired to be here and the girl with the brown hair who always seems like she’s just along for the ride.

You bite your lip to hide a laugh when he orders himself two strawberry daiquiris. Somehow you still catch his attention.

“What?” he pouts. You can’t help but feel a small stirring of surprise in your gut. He’s far more… relaxed than you’d expected him to be. He’s almost… childish?

You press your lips together and shake your head. You’ve reached the point where your research can’t take you any further. From this point on, it’s up to you to discover what Satoru Gojo likes in a woman.

You debate how to answer. Play coy? Tease him? Stay silent? Any option could be as correct as the next. You didn’t know where to start… so maybe you’d just start by being yourself.

“Just, um… not the order I was expecting,” you laugh. It’s halfway genuine. With the way he’s acting, it’s hard to remember that he’s the most powerful man alive.

His pout only intensifies. “Well, what’s your order?”

His question is answered when Dean sets another cosmopolitan in front of you. You laugh. “Never said I was judging, just that it wasn’t what I expected.”

Another smile tugs at his lips and something stirs in your gut that you try your very hardest to ignore. This was a job. There was no room for actually enjoying it. This man was probably going to kill you later, in a matter of hours.

There’s a beat of silence, and then a slight shift in his demeanor. He leans closer and you see a twitch of his lips. Your heart jumps.

“You’re a sorcerer,” he says.

You hold back an exhale of relief. You thought he might be onto you. If he is, he’s choosing not to reveal it yet.

You nod and take what you hope is a casual sip of your drink. “And you’re Satoru Gojo.”

A brow arches high enough for you to see it over his sunglasses. “You know who I am?”

You force a chuckle, smirking despite the pounding of your heart. “Who doesn’t?”

You’d decided long ago to tell him that you knew exactly who he was. It would seem more suspicious for a fellow sorcerer to have no idea what the Satoru Gojo looked like.

He flashes you a smile full of white and stupidly fucking perfect teeth. “That’s true, heh.” You press your lips together to avoid a smile. Not too humble, then…

“So, what’s your technique”

You shoot him a glance that questions his sanity. Asking a sorcerer what their technique is… is personal. It’s not information you give out to a rando at the bar– even if it is Satoru Gojo.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You take another sip of your drink, trying your hardest to remain somewhere on the border or interested and casual.

“Bet I could find out.”

That makes you turn fully, angling your body toward his. “Oh yeah? You challenging me to a fight?” You smirk and shake your head. “I’ll pass.”

He pouts again, but you see a hint of a smile peeking through. “Aw, come on. That’s no fun…”

You chuckle and take another sip of your drink. You’re not sure you’re sipping just for appearances anymore. You think you probably just need a little liquid courage to see this thing through. “Sorry. I value my life.”

You watch as he slides his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, just enough for you to get a glimpse of what’s behind. You nearly choke again and this time you don’t manage to hide your nervous swallow when he smirks.

“You’re so sure you’d lose?” His voice is teasing now and you hate that it’s actually having an effect on you. Job, job, job, just a job…

You clear your throat. “I like to think I’m not stupid enough to think that I could win.”

His eyes are blue– so fucking blue– and you feel like he’s seeing straight into your soul. Can he see? Can he see your filthy intentions? Your plotting? The rottenness of what you’re going to do? “What if I promise to take it real easy on you?”

Your drink is forgotten now. You’re lost in what he’s saying– in him. “No thanks.” Your voice is growing lower and you feel like there’s some magnet forcing you to lean into him, to seek his warmth.

“So you like it rough, then.” The trance is broken and your blood runs hot. Holy shit. This man is flirting with you and you hardly even had to try. He's trying to take you home. Little does he know, you’re a sure thing.

You watch as he throws back the rest of his strawberry daiquiri with a pleased “ahhh” at the end. When he turns back to you his eyes have a certain spark in them that makes your thighs press together. “You wanna dance with me?”

Fuck. This is going too well to be real. But you’re not about to pass up a good deal.

“What about your friends?” you ask and eye the several untouched drinks still left on the bar. It’s risky– giving him an out, but you can’t seem too eager.

He follows your gaze only to bounce his eyes straight back to you. “I’m sure they’ll get a look at ya and understand.”

The smirk he’s giving you is making electricity shoot straight between your legs. Damn. You really wish you didn’t have to kill him– or at least try to.

When he extends his hand you only hesitate for a second. Your heart leaps when you feel his skin on yours, knowing he’s let infinity down. He pulls you onto the dancefloor and it’s not long before he’s running his hands all over you– groping your ass, pinching your thighs, nipping at your neck. Pretty soon the dancefloor evolves to a dark corner of the club with his lips on yours and goddamn he’s a good kisser. You’ve got your fingers in his hair and his hand way too close to your boobs when he whispers those fateful words– “let’s get out of here.”

You can only hide your swallow and nod before he’s pulling you through the crowd, leaving the club behind. He hauls you both into the backseat of a taxi and the door’s barely closed before he’s all over you again. You think you hear the taxi driver mutter something about ‘staining the seats’ but you’re too far gone to give a shit.

Fuck, he feels good. He’s kisses you like he’s starved and your lips are the fountain of fucking life, like he’s never felt something so good and now he can’t get enough. And, god, he’s handsy. You’re forever grateful to your past self for discreetly hiding your blade in your bra– he would have felt a holster on your thigh at least ten times over by now.

He groans when you arrive at what you know is his apartment building, though you don’t let on that you recognize the place in the slightest. The look on his face makes you think he’s feeling actual physical pain at the prospect of having to peel away from you for even a second. Nonetheless, he tosses a wad of cash at the taxi driver and pulls you straight inside.

He can’t even wait for the elevator to come, groping your waist right there in the lobby and then when the elevator finally does come, shoving you up against the metal wall a licking stripe across your collarbone.

You can’t deny how nice it feels to be so desperately… wanted. Never once has a man made you feel this way– so consumed by him, him, him. Once again you curse the universe that you’re here with a mission other than getting laid.

You find yourself giggling when he pulls you out of the elevator and presses his palm to a fucking scanner to get into his apartment. You try to pull yourself together, but when he laughs with you, you can’t help but melt into him a little more.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind you, he’s got you up against another wall with your legs wrapped around his waist and his face buried in your neck. His sunglasses are long gone and you pull at his shirt, popping the buttons straight off the fabric until you slide the shirt down his shoulders and onto the floor.

“That was Versace,” he whines.

You plaster your lips to his. “I don’t care.” All he does is chuckle.

“So gorgeous…” he breathes and your head slumps back against the wall, giving him better access to the soft skin of your neck. Any minute now. Any minute he’s going to start stripping your clothes off and you’re going to have to let this charade crumble. You don’t want to. He’s practically worshiping you. It’s perfect, it’s amazing, and you don’t want it to end.

His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass and suddenly you’re moving again– moving, moving, moving until your back is bouncing against the softness of a mattress and you’re fucking giggling again like a lovesick idiot. Maybe you’d had a few too many sips of those cosmopolitans.

He’s smiling as he crawls over you and the sight makes your heart flutter with both lust and terror. Lust because he’s so fucking beautiful and terror because you know that any moment now you’re going to attempt to end that beauty forever.

A lump forms in your throat and you try unsuccessfully to swallow it. You have to do this, have to try. There’s no other way, no other option. Not for you.

Your thoughts must not have been as perfectly concealed as you’d thought because he quirks a brow. “Something goin’ on up here?” His lips slide across your temple in a touch that feels far too tender for a hookup. “Don’t worry, baby. It’ll fit.” He snickers at his own joke before burying himself in your neck. His hand slides down your side, pressing you up into him until you can feel every curve and cut of his muscles.

You bite your lip. You’ve already slipped enough for him to notice your nerves– you can’t let it happen again. You have to do it soon. Now. As soon as you see an opportunity you have to strike. You have to.

You arch up into him, scratching your fingers down his back, trying to seem as invested in the moment as you can. He gets greedier, leaving open-mouthed kiss down your neck, across your collarbone. You nearly freeze up when he kisses low into the valley of your breasts– as low as your dress allows. Then he moves over your clothes, kissing down your stomach as his hands rub your thighs.

Now. Now, while he’s not looking.

You slide a hand into his hair and another up to your chest, trying to play it off like you’re touching yourself. You sneak your fingers into your bra, feeling the cool metal of your blade glide across your thumb. Now.

You fist your fingers in his hair, holding his head down as best you can while you arc the blade toward his neck. Just one good hit, please…

You think you’re going to strike true– you’re so close– and then a firm hand wraps around your wrist, stalling your attack just as it was about to land.

Fuck.

He doesn’t look up right away, but you hear him sigh, feel his hot breath fanning over your thighs and stomach. When he finally does look up it’s with the eyes of a teacher who’s disappointed his student didn’t do their homework.

“Come on now, baby. I was really hoping you’d forget about all this and we could just have a good night together…” He’s pouting, whining, like a child who’s been told he can’t have dessert before dinner. Your shock stills you long enough that he easily maneuvers the blade from your hand, throwing it with a thwack into the wall to his right. It lands perfectly.

This is it. You’re going to die now. But not without a fight.

You spring up from the bed, kicking him a couple times in the process. You’ve missed your only chance. Now, if there’s even the slightest chance of escape, you have to take it.

You bare feet hit the carpet. No time to find your shoes. You dart for the door and hear him groan behind you. For a second you think you might actually make it, but you should know better.

He appears in front of you, straight out of fucking thin air, and his pout has transformed into something a little more sinister. “Come on, gorgeous. Let’s talk it out, yeah?”

You take a shaky step back, but you know it’s no use. He’s got you. It’s over.

You swallow and lift your chin– you at least want to die with a little dignity. “Just make it quick. Please.”

He sighs again and slides his hands in his fucking pockets, like this is just a stroll down the street. He stalks toward you, forcing you back until you’re pressed up against another wall. This motherfucker really likes walls.

His pout shifts to a smirk that borders far too closely on a grin. “Oh, no. I’ve always had a thing for taking it slow.”

You nearly snort. He certainly hadn’t had a thing for taking it slow just a minute ago. His arms cage you and your world grows infinitely smaller until it’s just him and those blue-ass eyes staring you down. Some distant part of you thinks you might not mind if it’s the last thing you ever see.

“Damn, I really thought you might give it up and just let me fuck you,” his pout returns. “So disappointing…” he sighs.

Your lips part. “You knew?”

That lights his face up like a Christmas tree. “Sensed you tailing me these past few weeks. Started on theeeee– 21st, no?”

Fuck. You’d been so careful. You’d only tailed him in public spaces, where your energy would be more diluted by the crowds. You’d stayed far enough away that he should only have caught mere glimpses of you, even suppressed your energy. He should not have been able to sense you. But he was Satoru Gojo– things people were not supposed to be able to do came easily to him.

But you have one thing on him.

“The 18th,” you whisper. “Started on the 18th.”

There’s a beat of silence and then his smile is growing wider, wider, wider, until it’s practically blinding you. “Well, shit,” he laughs. “You’re pretty good.”

You let a tiny smile slip through your terror. “I try.”

His eyes travel up and down your body, his pout slipping away to a frown. “What to do with you… hmm…” You lift your chin, taking shallow little breaths through your nose. You’re looking death in the face, but you’d never thought it would be so beautiful. He sighs. “I guess I could let you go.”

You freeze. He notices.

He quirks a brow, another smirk sliding across his lips. “What? Didn’t think that was an option?” You stay silent. No way he’ll let you go. It’s a bluff. A cruel trick. “It’s not like you could try again, gorgeous. I know your energy now and what you look like. Sorry, but your chance is gone.” That was fine by you. Your breaths come a little heavier, hope pulsing in your veins. “But–” shit. “Letting you go is so… boring. Especially after where we left off, yeah?”

Your jaw drops. “You cannot seriously be suggesting that we–”

He cuts you off with a kiss, one that makes your toes curl in the carpet and your stomach clench in anticipation.

“Oh, yes I am,” he chuckles. You feel his hand sliding down your hip, cool and calculating. “I know you weren’t faking the whole thing, gorgeous. Nobody makes out like that when they’re faking it.” You feel your cheeks heat. “And nobody gets this wet-” his fingers snake beneath your skirt, pressing to the wet patch on your panties. “When they’re faking it.” You gasp and reach out, hands clasping onto his shoulders for support. He only chuckles. “No worries, gorgeous. No need for any more faking tonight. I’ll make sure it’s all real.”

Somehow you’ve got your legs wrapped around his waist again and you’re headed to the bedroom– again. It’s like a replay– a redo.

“Let’s keep it less killy this time, yeah?”

Your back hits the mattress, your body bouncing lightly on its softness before he’s crawling after you. It’s simultaneously the best and worst deja vu you’ve ever experienced.

His hands slide down your body again, fingertips hooking beneath the hem of your skirt and shimmying it up your thighs until your panties are on full display.

“Shit,” you breathe. He’s moving so fast, like he’s desperate to go further, to get his greedy hands all over your bare skin.

You can’t say you blame him. You feel the same.

His thumbs hook under the fabric of your panties and you know it’s over for you. You can feel his warm breath skating across your thighs, feel the calluses on his hands scraping against your skin. You reach a hand down, tangling it in his hair, and you nearly faint when he smirks and looks up at you with those blue fucking eyes.

“I think I’ve seen this film before, sweetheart.” He tilts his head, resting his cheek on the plush of your thigh. “No more knives hiding anywhere, yeah?”

You clench your jaw, trying to control your pounding heart. You can’t believe you’re doing this. Why are you doing this? You wish you had a better answer than he’s beautiful and sexy and just a glance at him makes you want to rip his clothes off and climb him like a tree.

“Silent, hm? Guess I’ll just have to check myself…”

He’s pressing up the hem up your skirt, more, more, more, until he’s pulling your dress straight up over your arms and running his hands down your bare sides.

“None there…” His fingers cup your breast and you gasp, unable to contain your shock and the jolt that just rushed through you. He traces the outline of your bra. “You had the last one in here, no?” Your chest heaves under his touch, pressing the flesh of your breast up into his fingers. He smirks. “Best check again.” You feel an arm slide beneath you back and then your bra loosens before it’s completely gone.

There’s a beat of silence, of admiration. He gazes down on you and you see his snark falter for just a moment, replaced by a sparkle in his eyes. It makes your skin heat. His fingers brush the swell of your breasts, thumb trailing down over a nipple. You arch and gasp again.

“Fuck. Quit teasing so much.”

He chuckles and the sound washes over you until it settles in your bones. “Sush. I’m not done checking for weapons yet.”

You scowl but before you can even move to open your mouth he’s sliding your panties down your legs, hooking them around your ankles and tossing them somewhere on the floor.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you watch him settle himself down between your thighs, eyes never once leaving your center. “Don’t see any knives here, either, but maybe I should double-check…” he breathes.

He hooks your legs over his shoulders and you shudder, your breaths shaky. Fuck. You were supposed to kill him tonight but if he keeps going like this you’ll be the one deceased.

He meets your eyes when he takes the first long lick along your folds. You swear he’s smirking.

Your head rolls back and a pathetic sounding groan slips past your lips. You hadn’t realized how much he’d worked you up. Just the slightest touch feels like heaven.

His tongue nudges at your clits and your legs clench, tightening around his head. He laughs into your cunt and his warm breath skates up and over your tummy. Your fingernails scrape his scalp.

“I think you like this, gorgeous.”

Each word sends little puffs of air against your folds. It’s driving you crazy. You stare down at him, letting a smirk pull at your lips. Your eyes dart over his mouth, wet with your slick, and you don’t fail to notice the way he’s struggling to hold your gaze, eyes flickering back down to your cunt every second. Your smirk grows. “I think you’re liking this, too.”

He licks another stripe, from you pulsing hole to your throbbing clit, and this time he’s the one groaning. “Damn right I am.”

He eats you out like he kisses you– like a starved man, like he’ll die if he stops for just one second, like he can’t live without your juices on his tongue.

You whine and bury both hands in his hair, tugging desperately when his lips wrap around you clit and suck. It’s so much, too much, and yet it’s just right.

Your hips buck and squirm, but he’s got his fingers pressed deep into your flesh, holding you down to take whatever he gives. You think you see heaven when he slides two fingers into your walls, curling them into that gummy spot that has an unbearable heat building deep inside you.

“S-Satoru-” you stutter and you hear him moan and mutter into your cunt like he’s unwilling to leave it for even a second.

“Fuck, yes. Say my name, sweetheart.” Who are you to deny him? You whisper, whine, and whimper his name with every thrust of his fingers, every lick of his tongue. It’s delicious. Every so often he swaps his mouth and hand, thrusting his tongue as deep inside you as he can while his fingers rub dangerous little circles on your clit. Whenever things get a little too filthy he laps his tongue across your entire cunt and along your inner thighs, cleaning up every stray drop. You don’t know how much longer you can last under such a complete and total assault.

“S-Satoru, ‘m gonna-” He licks a thick stripe through your folds that makes your sentence end in a whine, his lips settling to suckle on your clit again.

God, it’s messy. It’s fucking disgusting. His whole chin is covered in spit and slick– and you love it. “Cum for me, baby,” he breathes.

You don’t need to hear much more. You let the heat inside you release with a whine, thighs trembling on his shoulders. Your walls pulse and throb around his fingers, sucking him in and never wanting him to leave. His tongue continues to rub lazy circles around your clit, working you through your high and making it last so long you think you might pass out.

Warmth spreads from the top of your head to the tips of your toes and your muscles tense and clench with each pulsing throb. You swear to god you see fucking stars.

It seems to go on forever, leaving you limp and shaking when the last waves finally slip away.

He presses a final kiss to your clit, one that makes your hips jolt from the overstimulation before he’s lifting himself up. “Wow. That looked like a big one,” he chuckles. He runs a soothing hand along your thigh and you don’t even have the energy to give him some sort of snarky reply. There’s hardly even a pause before something shifts in his eyes. “Let’s see if we can get one that’s even bigger, yeah?”

Before you can even process what he’s said you feel strong hands slide under your thighs, pressing them tightly to your chest as he settles himself close to you

You grasp at the sheets, hearing the clinking of a belt buckle and then the familiar pitch of a zipper being undone.

“Fuck,” you mutter. He’s big. Long and pretty and with a perfectly flushed tip. Your eyes are rolling back just thinking about having him inside you.

A strong hand smooths along your thighs, folding you in a way that feels more vulnerable and exposing than anything you’ve ever done before. He pauses for a beat, just staring down at you silently.

“Gorgeous,” he finally mutters, and something in your heart squeezes. His hand grips your hip firmly, holding you in place and you gasp when you feel him prodding at your entrance. It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. Big bad assassin turned simpering little bitch over some good Gojo dick.

“Just relaxxxxx, baby.” His hand rubs soothing little circles into your side and it’s so divinely distracting that it catches you by surprise when he starts pushing into you. You gasp and he only chuckles. Asshole.

He’s big– really big – and the stretch is somehow both painful and perfect. You groan into the air, struggling to take him. Every inch feels like it must be the last, but then there’s more. Your walls clench around him on instinct, trying to force him out.

“Fuck, baby. What did I say about relaxing?” You hiss when his hand skates down your tummy to rub messy circles on your clit. The relief is instant and you moan when you feel him slide in a little further. “There we go. Good girl.”

He continues feeding his dick into you, inch by inch, until his hips finally press to yours and you think you can feel him in your fucking throat. You hear him exhale, like it’s a relief to finally be fully inside you, like he’s been waiting for ages.

You expect him to not hold back, to let himself go and pound into you relentlessly, but he doesn’t. He only leans down closer to you, settling in when he starts a pace of slow, sensual thrusts. His brows pinch, his eyes hardened in concentration.

“Ah, fuck. You’re so tight.”

You want to shoot something back at him, but you’re hardly remembering to breathe with how deep he’s sliding into you. Instead, you just end up holding him tighter, your eyes fluttering shut.

Lips dust across your cheeks, just below your lashes. “Keep your eyes open, gorgeous. Wanna see you.”

You blink, thinking that it’s a notion that feels a little too intimate for a hookup. Regardless, you do as he wants, opening your eyes and holding his gaze.

A smile splits his lips and he presses his forehead to yours, picking up the pace of his thrusts. It’s not long before the sound of skin on skin fills the room and you’re both panting. His breath skates across your skin, hot and heavy, hitching with the groans and whines that spill from his chest. You can’t help but pull him closer, raking your nails down his back hard enough to leave marks. The action makes him emit a noise you can only describe as a desperate whimper. “Fuck, baby. Yes.”

His lips press to yours in a kiss that’s all desperation and teeth and tongue. You kiss him back with equal intensity, your body rocking with each heavy thrust. He’s pounding into you now, frantic for more, more, more of you. You want him to take it, take all of you.

A familiar heat pinches in your stomach and you know it won’t be long before he’s pushing you to another release. His dick drags in and out of you, prodding at the gummy spot inside you with every thrust and brushing so deliciously against your cervix that you can’t stop the moans spilling from your lips. It has you seeing stars again, has you clawing at him and panting into his mouth.

“Satoru… harder,” you breathe. You need more– more of everything, of him.

He groans. “You got it, gorgeous.”

His hips slam into you and it’s so perfect that you can’t help but whimper beneath him. It only gets worse when you feel his fingers on your clit again, hand pressed between your bodies. “Cum on my dick, baby.” Your eyes roll back, that coil inside you rolling tighter. You feel his muscles tensing and shaking above you and you know he’s close, too. “Where do you want it?” he asks, and from the pinched look on his face you can tell exactly where he wants it. You know you’re an idiot for feeling the same.

“Inside,” you breathe. He groans so loudly it rattles in your ears.

“That’s my girl,” he says, but it’s nearly a whisper with how strained it is. His hand continues at your clit, rubbing perfect little circles that make your legs tremble where they’re pressed against your chest. Your jaw hangs open, but you don’t dare close your eyes. Satoru is still holding your gaze intently, desperately, like he needs to see you. The thought throws you over the edge.

You cry his name, clawing at his shoulder and shaking like a leaf as you feel yourself gush and pulse all over his dick. For the second time that evening you feel the heat inside you swell and burst, washing through you in waves that nearly consume you whole. It’s a struggle to hold his eyes, to not let them roll back into your skull and give into the pure ecstasy of your high– especially when he’s cumming, too. You can hear him moaning in your ear, feel him twitching inside you, feel his hot cum coating your walls and there’s just so fucking much of it. You swear he cums for a minute straight before he slumps down onto you, burying his face in your neck as you pant.

You’re shaking and so is he, breaths heaving in and out. Reality slowly starts to seep back in, even with his dick still softening inside you and his cum leaking down your thighs.

You tried to kill him. You failed. You had sex. Now what? Would he really let you go like he’d said he would? You wanted to believe it, but life hadn’t taught you to be that trusting. You should move, untangle yourself from him and escape before he has time to change his mind.

“You assassins are always thinking so hard,” He mumbles into the curve of your neck. “Maybe you should try to relax for once.”

You swallow when you feel him pressing his lips to your throat, trailing up to your jaw. It’s… tender, gentle, and it feels so nice. You can’t help the way you melt into the touch a bit. You feel him smile into your skin. “There we go.”

His hand settles on your waist, rubbing soothing little circles that send a jolt of urgency up your spine. No. You’re enjoying this– being close to him, laying here with him, breathing him in. That’s not what this is supposed to be.

You tense again, shifting to get away from him, but he only sighs and presses his weight onto you.

“Come on, gorgeous. No need to leave so soon. Just stay for a bit, yeah?” He nibbles at your jaw, but it doesn’t work this time. You have to go. You’ve failed your mission. You don’t know what that means for your brother. You’d never thought this would have an ending besides your death.

“I have to go,” you mutter, pushing at his chest.

He chuckles, but you don’t miss the strain and… hurt? “Got something more important than trying to kill me?”

You clench your teeth, trying once again to shove him away. “Yes, actually.”

He finally pulls back to meet your gaze, brows slightly pinched. “Like what?”

You push in earnest now, anger and panic rising in your gut. You have to go, have to check on your brother, have to figure out what you’re going to do. “That’s really none of your business,” you seethe.

You go for another shove, but strong hands clasp around your wrists, pinning them to the bed. His expression has gone flat now, serious. “Actually, I think it’s completely my business. You going to report your failure? Should I expect another assassin soon?”

You scowl, tugging at his grasp and trying to free yourself. “Yeah, probably. He’s an insufferable idiot. I told him it wouldn’t work and it didn’t, but I don’t doubt he’ll send another.”

His face cracks, his brows pulling together again. “If you knew it wouldn’t work then why’d you take the job?”

You struggle again, less angry and more desperate now. “Because he’s got my fucking brother at gunpoint and I’ve got to figure out how the fuck I’m going to save him!” you shout.

There’s silence for a long moment– a long, uncomfortable beat of it– and then his expression softens into something… tender. It sends a chill up your spine. Satoru Gojo was never supposed to be tender with you, and that’s all he’s been.

“I’ll save him,” he says. Your heart jumps and his grip on your wrists loosens, allowing you to slip free.

“What?” you breathe. He sits back, allowing you to prop yourself up into a slightly less vulnerable position.

He exhales slowly, but you don’t miss the way his hand settles on your bare thigh, a comforting weight. “I’ll save your brother and then I’ll take care of your boss.” A smirk creeps across his lips. “What? Don’t think I can do it?”

You stare blankly, lips parted. There’s no doubt he can do it, but that’s not the question swirling in your mind.

“Why would you help me?” You’d tried to kill the man. You couldn’t make heads or tails of a reason why he’d go out of his way to help you.

He chuckles. “Well, in case you didn’t know, I’m a hero of sorts.” You have to fight not to roll your eyes. “And… there’s something I want from you.”

There it is– the catch. He wants something. You have no idea what you could possibly have to give him, but you’re willing for it to be just about anything. You narrow your eyes. “What?”

He grins, but you can see the glint of mischief in his gaze. His hand slides further up your thigh, up your side, over your shoulder, until it rests at the nape of your neck and his face is only inches from your own. “What’s your number, gorgeous?”

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luveline · 6 days

Note

hotch sister idea-- convincing hotch to take you out to dinner with the whole team because you "want to properly meet his friends" (i'm a sucker for team dynamics) but then being shy and cute with spencer the entire time to the point that hotch notices and gets a tad protective...but ends with spencer getting her number or something

thank you for requesting 💌 —you attend a party with your older brother in a not so secret plight to see Dr. Reid. You fawn, Spencer flusters, and Hotch drinks a tad more than usual. fem, 2.3k

cw for mentions of past child abuse

The car is quiet besides the tread of the tires on asphalt. You click and unclick the clasp of your shoulder bag, checking for your purse, getting worried your purse isn’t in there, and checking again.

“If there’s something you want to ask me, you can ask me.”

You move your gaze to your brother. His quietness can make you nervous, a reflection of your father but with none of the cruelty. “I don’t want you to get mad at me if it’s stupid.”

“Well, I won’t. I promise.”

You know he won’t, but sometimes the fear remains. Even when you’re far from being a kid. “Do you remember when I got suspended for, um, disrespectful behaviour? My senior year?”

Aaron turns the wheel with care. “I do.”

“And we went for ice cream.”

“Yeah, honey, I remember.”

That’s the point you’re trying to make, maybe. That tenderness sewn into the middle of his sentence. If your dad knew you’d been suspended again he would’ve made you feel it. You remember the sinking sensation in your chest waiting for him to pick you up, having written the speech he’d give you in the car ride home in your head ten times over, the sting of his palm grazing your cheek before you’d even seen his hand. So you waited in a total violent panic, head rush, wondering if anything was worth anything, when Aaron arrived to pick you up.

How did you know? you’d asked.

I changed your emergency contact. I hope that’s okay.

“You asked me what I wanted and…”

What flavour did you want, honey? he’d asked. Honey, like he loved you, the only person in the whole world who’d bother asking. The only man who’d take you for ice cream at seventeen years old to cure a bad day.

“And you burst into tears,” Aaron says.

He’d sat down opposite you in his suit, torn from one of his trials, and you can’t remember anymore if he was an attorney or already in the FBI, but you can’t forget how he’d taken your wrists into his hands and asked you not to cry.

“When you took me home, Haley asked me if you’d upset me, and I didn’t know how to explain it so you said yes. And she shouted at you for a whole half hour.”

“Why are you thinking about this now?” he asks.

Maybe because college is over and you’re forced to move on. Aaron asked you to try hard and you have, but now you have your degree and you don’t know what to do with it, you’ll get a job, and then what?

“I’ve been thinking about… my love life.”

“Oh. And you have to talk about this with me?” he jokes.

“I don’t have anybody else.”

He tears his gaze from the windshield. “That’s not true.”

“But…”

He turns into the parking lot outside of Dan’s Fine Wine Bar and pulls into a tight space with ease. He hesitates before he flicks off the engine, turning to you with a smile. “You’ll always have me,” he says, “and we can talk about your love life. I want to. God knows you’ve heard enough about mine this last year.” You both grimace. “But if I have to listen one more time to you talking about Spencer–”

“You said you wouldn’t get mad!”

“Honey.” He takes off his seatbelt and opens the door. “I’m not mad. But imagine your younger sibling comes to you one day to tell you they have feelings for your employee and try to find some sympathy for me!”

He clambers out of the car. You rush after him, unbuckling your seatbelt and nearly smashing your door into the car next to you. The air outside is cold, and you didn’t bring a jacket even though Aaron told you to twice, so you can’t mention it aloud. “I don’t have feelings for him.”

“You have a crush. You’re too old for it.”

“I am not.”

He gestures for you to walk in front of him as he clicks the fob for the car and the doors lock automatically. “I don’t understand what this has to do with your suspension.”

You chew on your cheek. Neon from the wine bar mottles your skin as you pass under it and through the door, air quickly turned from cold to temperate, the smell of old rain replaced by carpeting and beer. When you lift your head to his gaze, he’s still waiting for your answer. “You told me things wouldn’t be that hard forever. I was just wondering when it’s safe to say you were right.”

He grins at you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to give you a rough hug. “Right now. Be happy right now, honey.”

“There they are!” Penelope calls from a table near the back. Suddenly, Aaron’s entire team of work colleagues stand up where they’ve dominated a whole row of tables and booths alike to greet you. “Oh my gosh, I missed you!”

You met Penelope a long long time ago, and JJ and Derek around the same time, but everybody else is basically new. College was busy and Aaron busier —there was hardly ever time to visit, and when you did it was to see him and Haley. Meeting his friends was somehow put off.

You were introduced to Emily and Spencer, so Aaron directs you to David Rossi first. That’s the main team done quickly. But then he has to introduce you to Anderson, Sweeney, Kelly, Cory, Davidson, etc. So many agents for one man’s birthday. Anyone would think Derek Morgan was a celebrity.

“Happy birthday!” you say, when you finally get a moment to speak.

Derek reaches over the table to hug you quickly. “Thank you, gorgeous. We’re thrilled you’re here.” He pulls back, elbowing Penelope lovingly. “Aren’t we, mama?”

Penelope squeals and jumps for you. “So thrilled!”

Aaron touches your back, as if to say, I’m here, before taking a seat opposite Rossi. You hear snippets of a conversation about whiskey and when, but you’re distracted, because suddenly Penelope’s forcing you to sit down in her vacated seat, smack bang between Emily Prentiss and Spencer Reid.

Dr. Spencer Reid. “Hi,” you say quietly. Can’t help it. You remember how you’d reacted when you met him the week before last and wonder if it’s too late to pretend you’re cool —you’d gotten so worked up about him. He wrote a bunch of papers you had to read for your degree, some of the most sophisticated theory on elliptical math you’d ever read, and you’re supposed to act like he’s just a normal guy?

It doesn’t help that he’s model pretty. You’d never have thought of him as he is now over email, his huge brown eyes, pale skin, the flicking curl of his hair behind his ears. When he turns his head, he has indents on his nose from a pair of glasses you wish you’d seen. You clear your throat.

“Hi, Y/N, how are you?” Spencer asks.

“I’m gonna go get a drink now,” Aaron says. “What do you want?” he asks you.

“Um, anything. I don’t really wanna drink.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” he says with deliberateness.

You feel heat like a rash on your neck. He’s embarrassing you doing his dad routine.

“You look pretty,” Spencer says.

You hide your hands under your thighs. “You think so?”

“You look beautiful,” Penelope says from across the table.

“Didn’t inherit that Hotchner scowl,” Derek says with a grin, “I thought it came with the name.”

“I learned how to do it the day they signed the adoption certificate,” you nudge in, “I just keep it to myself. I think Aaron has it down.”

Everybody within hearing distance laughs at you, to your relief. To your left, Spencer’s shoe hits your heel.

“So weird to hear his real name,” Emily says, tipping her drink to the side, ice and sugar on the surface. “I thought for sure you’d have to call him Hotch too.”

You look around in surprise. “He can’t be that bad. Does he really frown so much?”

You’re told vehemently that your brother is a grump, which is something you were aware of, just not experienced in. Sure, he’s had his unhappy moments, no one can smile every second of the day, but if everyone is to be believed he’s the sternest man alive. Eventually things drift into storytelling. Aaron brings you your drink with a straw and a napkin wrapped around the base, and you find yourself listening to a graphic rehash of Derek’s first case with the BAU.

Spencer’s leg is a coal at your side.

Your self preservation runs out. “You don’t drink?” you ask, nodding to his glass bottle of coke.

“I– I never did. I never had the opportunity. I’ve never even been to a party.” He pauses. “I don’t know why I just told you that.”

“I didn’t go to parties either,” you say, overjoyed to find common ground so quickly.

“I mean, I was never invited, but highschool parties didn’t seem like my thing. And, you know, I was twelve.”

“You were twelve in highschool?”

He’s doing that thing you noticed the day you met, where his lips move before he’s ready to talk, his emotion clear. “You weren’t?” he asks, not quite smooth but enough to make you laugh suddenly.

“I wish! I could’ve been done with college years ago.” Your brows pinch together. “Wait, so did you go to college as a kid?”

“I mean, sort of.”

“What? No wonder you didn’t go to any parties, that must’ve been insane. When I was twelve I was still setting my Barbie’s up for dance parties. Aaron has a photo of me dressed up in mom’s old clothes.” You lean forward for a sip of your drink.

“Oh, don’t worry, there’s a photo of me just like that when I was twelve, too.”

You laugh so hard you almost choke.

A cup comes down hard somewhere behind your turned head.

“You okay?” Emily asks.

She wears a smirk you don’t understand, a joke you’ve missed. You peer past her to look to Aaron for advice and find him rather sullen, hand curled tightly around his drink. You try to give him a signal to ask if he’s alright, but it’s to no avail.

“I’m fine, sorry, just a joke.” You turn back to Spencer. “That’s adorable.”

You’re breathless talking to him. He must notice, but Spencer doesn’t say a word.

If someone asked you why he caught your attention, you’re not sure you know the answer. He’s pretty, undeniably, and it’s fascinating that you used his theory while you were in school, but fascination isn’t endless. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you. No ones ever given such a clear sense of awe; he gets stuck on you, his eyes tracing your cheek and your nose and your lips. It’s noticeable, but it isn’t unwanted. You keep coming back to his smile as he talks, the flash of his teeth.

“I honestly didn’t know Hotch had a sister,” Spencer says.

“He was keeping us apart for a reason,” you say insistently, “I just don’t know what that reason is yet. He must’ve known you were the Dr. Reid I’d been reading.”

“It makes it sound like you’re reading me,” Spencer laughs. “Like, my hands.”

“Do you want me to?”

“Do I want you to what?”

“To read your palm?”

“You know how?”

“No parties, remember?”

Spencer gives you his hand. He has nice hands, big but slim-fingered like a pianist’s, though if he plays isn’t something you know. You angle it flat careful, your thumbs to either side of his open palm. “What do you want to know?” you ask.

“What can you tell me?”

You hum gently. “You have your life line, your head line, your heart line– your love line.”

“What does that– that mean for me?”

You press your thumb to his mount Jupiter, a soft hill of his hand under one of his fingers where the heart line begins. “Your desire for love, and your capacity for it. See how deeply curved it is?” you ask, drawing along his heart line gently. “It means you’re warm, and loving. That you could have a great love.”

You look up, his hand held gently between yours. “But I could be really wrong. I haven’t done this in so long, I might just be making stuff up.”

You sound insecure to your own ears, cringing away from his hand, but Spencer ducks his head just a little to keep your gaze, and he smiles at you softly. “It’s okay. I like your reading, even if it’s wrong. Where did you learn how to do that?”

“Aaron would buy me any book I asked for growing up, he…”

Your brother, sitting only a few seats away, can’t find it in himself to regret that particular generosity even if the sight of you holding Spencer’s hand isn’t one he wants to see. It’s odd. You’re fully grown up, and it’s not like Aaron thinks Spencer would ever hurt you purposefully, but it’s hard to see anyways. He can admit to feeling like a father watching his daughter finding a first love; he can’t keep you forever and he doesn’t want to, but it’s still hard to watch as you descend into giggles that border on dizziness.

“This is a good thing,” Rossi says. “You’ll never have to worry about her being out past curfew.”

Aaron laughs, it’s funny, and then he knocks back his drink.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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sabertoothwalrus · 3 months

Text

so I’ve been gaining a lot of insight into the animation industry recently, especially in regards to pitching & the creation of new shows. There’s a few ways to go about it.

First, there’s pitching to a studio. When you pitch, it has to be SHORT and CONCISE. You may write a lovingly detailed pitch bible that perfectly breaks down episodes and characterizations, and it might barely even get read. First impressions, first impressions, first impressions!

Most peoples’ first projects don’t get picked up. I’ve heard a few stories from directors that said they tried pitching a story they’d had for years, which got rejected, to then spend a week or even several hours in their car coming up with a new idea, only for that to get greenlit.

But that’s not the end of it. Just because a show gets greenlit, doesn’t mean it will ever get finished. There’s lots of things that can happen. Sometimes, unexpected major world events (like… a global pandemic) can cause projects to get chopped. Sometimes, a CEO change or studio merge means a single person can decide a project “no longer fits with the company’s brand.” Sometimes, the one producer that was rooting for your project gets laid off, and no one else cares enough, so it gets shelved. Sometimes, a streaming service decides to create an animation department, and then they decide they don’t want it anymore. Sometimes, the studio will be simultaneously be developing another project that was too similar to yours and they just didn’t think to tell you until they decide yours is the one with less potential.

On top of that, almost everyone in the industry is saying that “studios just don’t pick up original content anymore.” Studios want something they can franchise, something that will bring in money. New content is risky. Established fanbases are safer.

However! Studios can still be a very good thing. They can be unionized. They can provide better benefits and resources. They can have connections and infrastructure and a larger volume of workers. At a studio, you can divide the labor and produce more in less time. Longer episodes, longer seasons, more consistency in quality.

But this comes with all of the disadvantages of having more in the kitchen.

The alternative is indie animation.

With indie animation, you have total freedom. Full artistic control. It doesn’t even matter if your idea sucks ass, because there’s no one to tell you you can’t make it. You could make it anyway, and you can make it whatever you wanted.

The thing is, making animation is hard. In my production class last semester, the average maximum animation one person could make in that timeframe was 30-60 seconds, and that’s not even counting background design, sound design, or cleanup/color. To make a 5 minute animated short, you should probably have at least 5 people.

And it is CRUCIAL you have a production manager. Ideally someone who’s not already doing art for the project. Most projects without a production manager will fall apart pretty quickly. Once the adrenaline and impulse-fueled motivation wears off, you need someone to hold you accountable and enforce deadlines and proper time management.

Speaking of time, that’s also hard to get. The more people you have, the more likely schedules won’t line up. Most people will have school, or other jobs.

And it costs MONEY!!!!!! You either have everyone work for free and volunteer their time & energy, or you establish a business as a proper indie studio, with people who may or may not have experience on how to handle paying someone else’s salary. And the money has to come from somewhere, so you have to rely on crowdfunding like patreon or kickstarter. (This, by the way, is why I could never fault an indie animation for releasing merch with their pilot.)

And like, maybe you wanna do a series, and all your friends agree to volunteer their labor and time to make the first episode, but it was unanimously not sustainable. Deciding not to produce a second episode until you can raise enough money is not being suddenly greedy, it’s attempting to compensate people rather than expecting them to be continuously taken advantage of.

You have to consider your output as well. There are some outliers like Worthikids, who afaik does all his animation himself, and afaik can work on it full-time thanks to his patreon subscribers. And he still has only produced a total of 30 minutes of animation (for Big Top Burger specifically) in the past 4 years. This is an IMPRESSIVE feat and this is with using a lot of 3D as part of his pipeline!!

Indie animation also has the complication of being more accessible for fandoms. When you’re posting your Official Canon Content on youtube, it doesn’t look a lot different than the fandom-created video essay in the sidebar next to it. What’s canon vs what’s fanon becomes less distinguishable. The boundaries are blurrier. When the creator is just some guy you follow on twitter, it’s easier to prod them for info regarding ships and theories and word-of-god confirmation. They don’t have a PR team or entire international tv networks to appeal to. And this is when creators get frustrated that their fans snowball and turn their creation into something they don’t recognize (and no longer enjoy) anymore.

So it’s tricky.

Thankfully, the threshold to learn animation is fairly low nowadays!! There are TONS of resources online to learn it on your own without forking over a couple hundred thousand to a private art college. There are conventions and discord servers and events where you can network, if you know where to look.

I know it can seem discouraging in the face of capitalism, but I think that’s all the more reason why it’s so important to BE DETERMINED about animation!! We’re already starting to see the beginning of an indie animation boom, and I think it’s a testament to humanity’s desire to tell stories and create art. Even if there’s no financial gain, we do whatever it takes to tell our stories anyway.

#animation #2d animation #indie animation #long post #not 100% sure why I made this post #all this to say: I’m still not sure what direction I want to go towards for my own show #ngl!! i think im confident i could get people to like my show. i think I could find an audience #i have some experience at this point getting people to like my ocs #its just a matter of MAKING the damn thing

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darkbluekies · 1 month

Note

OMG SILAS WEDDING? YES PLZ THAT SOUNDS SO GOOD

Saying 'I do' is like a death sentence

Yandere!mafia OC x reader

Sumamry: Silas gets you to marry him

Warnings: threats, mentions of murder, guns, forced marriage, dubcon kiss?, violence, mentions of punishment, trauma from said punishments, possessiveness, jealousy, family drama

Word count: 3.5k

Things have been awfully quiet these last days and you've noticed a certain spark in Silas’s eyes. You didn't think much of it before seeing his second in command — whose eyes are normally dead — light up. But no one has talked to you.

You’re sitting in the window, looking out over the front yard and the houses down the street. You’ve seen school children come home from school and their parents join them with grocery bags. They’re living so … normally.

There's a knock on the door, which makes you even more confused. Silas doesn't knock on his own bedroom door. His second in command walks in.

“Y/N, you're going to come with me”, he says.

“Why?” you question.

“You will see. Come.”

You hesitate. Silas has told you countless times to never listen to any of his men, never walk somewhere with them. The only one you should listen to is Silas, the only one you should ever walk somewhere with is Silas. He has tested you before to see if you would leave the house with any of his members … and you’ve been greatly punished for it.

But Silas’s trusts his second in command … you know that he would never betray Silas.

“You don’t need to be afraid”, the second in command says and waves at you to come over.

“I don’t want to be punished …”, you whisper.

He takes a step forward. You press yourself closer to the window. It’s another trap, you’re certain of it. Silas is standing outside the room, waiting for you to take the bait. This is the final level, to see if you would listen to the man he trusts the most, one that you think that you can listen to. You shake your head quickly.

“Y/N, you can trust me”, his second in command says and puts his hand on his chest. “I swear on my mother’s life that I won’t get you into trouble.”

“Has Silas told you to get me?” you question carefully.

“Yes.”

Slowly, you get down from the window and walk over to him. He puts his hand on your back to guide you out of the room, into the corridor and down the stairs. Your heart is beating loudly against your ribs. What if the second in command is lying?

“Where is he?” you ask as you make your way down to the first floor.

“I am taking you to him”, the second in command says calmly.

You stop and turn to him. “Please promise me that this isn’t a test, and that I’m not going to get punished.”

“Y/N, I’m not lying to you. Silas have asked me personally to drive you to him.”

“Why?”

“You will find out once we get there.”

“Okay …”

You follow him out to a car. He holds the backseat door open and lets you jump in.

“Put on a seatbelt or else Silas will kill me”, he tells you.

You pull the seatbelt over your body and clicks it into place while the second in command walks around the car to sit down in the driver’s seat. You watch the houses as you drive by.

“I really thought that this was going to be one of those tests …”, you admitted hesitantly while scratching your nails. “I really don’t want to go down to the basement again.”

“I understand that.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Depends.”

“Don’t you ever feel bad for … what happens in the basement? To any of the people unfortunate to end down there?”

“Not necessarily. Most of the people that gets thrown down there has done something to deserve it. You see, Y/N, Silas never hurts anyone without a reason. If he could have it his way he wouldn’t hurt anyone, but people are stupid enough to cross and challenge him.”

“What would he do without it? Isn’t that how you’re supposed to survive and climb the ladder in this world?”

“He would do his business and trading without hurting anyone. In a perfect world, people pay on time and doesn’t try to steal territory. No human likes hurting anyone else — unless they’re psychopaths, but that’s rare. Even the most gruesome killers have guilt.”

“But how can he hurt someone he loves? I could never do what he does to someone I love.”

“I won’t meddle in your relationship, because that’s not my business, but things aren’t black and white.”

“I wish things could be colorful for once.”

The second in command sighs and turns on the radio. You listen to the music as the landscape outside the car swishes by. You don’t recognise anything, except for a supermarket chain that you used to shop at. Soon, you start to think that the silence between you two feels sickening. You can’t stop thinking about what awaits you once the car stops.

“I know that you’re not allowed to actually conversate with me, but can we just … talk about anything?” you sigh and shrug while trying to find a suitable conversation topic. “Could be about the weather.”

“The weather?” the second in command scoffs and smiles in amusement. “Fuck no.”

“How far is it left?”

“Around fifteen minutes.”

“You don't talk much normally, don't you?”

“I talk when I have important things to say. Otherwise, why should I? I get paid to act, not to talk.”

“I don’t get paid at all.”

The second in command tugs at his smile. “You still have it better than the majority of us.”

When the car finally stops, you look around to see that you’re by the beach. The second in command opens the door for you and helps you out. You look around and feel your heart sink when you see where Silas is, and what’s surrounding him. Candles and flower petals. You stop right in your tracks as you go stone cold. You’ve feared for this day.

“What are you stopping for?” the second in command asks and gives you a small push. “Come on.”

You notice a gun in his hands. On stiff, frozen legs you stumble towards Silas. The sand feels heavy under your feet. Silas smiles and takes your hand.

“I think you can guess what I’m going to do”, he says cheekily and takes up a small, black box out his pocket.

You shake your head, but Silas doesn’t seem to notice — or care. He gets down on one knee. You try to pull your hand out of his grip, but he tightens it.

“I don’t think words can explain the amount of love I feel for you”, he starts.

It’s not love. It simply can’t be.

“I know that I want to spend my entire life with you”, he says, looking up at you in awe.

“N-No … wait-”

He opens the box. “Will you marry me?”

You can’t breathe. You know that if you answer no, you might get to taste the gun in the second in command’s hands and you’ll definitely end up in the basement. But you can’t answer yes. If you do, you will be bound to Silas for all eternity. You will have to wear a ring claimed by him, take his name, officially be his. You will be known as his husband/wife forever.

“Y/N, I think that you better want to answer ‘yes’”, he whispers warningly, “for your own sake.”

You hesitate, going through every possible scenario. Every scenario where you decline him ends in physical and mental pain — not only to you, but probably to your family as well. If you accept his proposal, you will trap yourself deeper into his spider web and get tortured for the rest of your life, but you won’t piss him off. You can’t win, no matter what you choose.

“Okay …”, you whisper in defeat. “I will.”

Silas’s face lights up. He shoots up from his knee, wraps his muscular arms around you and devours your lips with his. He pulls your hand to him and places a ring on your finger. The ring is made of a shimmering gold and multiple glistening diamonds. You can’t help but stare at it.

“Congratulations, boss”, his second in command smiles. “You’re going to have a marvelous wedding.”

“Let’s go to a restaurant to celebrate this”, Silas smiles and start to walk with you in his arms. He gives his second in command a tap on the shoulder. “You too.”

The man smiles and follows.

You eat at his favorite restaurant, but you can’t seem to swallow any of the food. A lump has formed in the back of your mouth, preventing anything from passing it. Silas conversates with his second in command, only noticing your sulking after finishing his own food.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” he asks, touching your cheek. “Are you not hungry?”

You shake your head.

“That’s okay”, Silas says softly and caresses your shoulder. “Do you want to take it in a togo-bag?”

You nod.

That evening when you get back home, you’re allowed to sit at Silas’s place at the end of the long rectangular table in the dining room with your heated food. You can hear Silas’s men move through the house. Silas and his second in command are in his office to plan the wedding.

You notice that someone is about to sit down on the first chair of the long side of the table. A man you have never spoken to before.

“Hi, care if I keep you company?” he asks.

Too shocked to answer, he takes your silence as ‘yes’ and sits down. You glance at the open door towards the hall and swallow thickly.

“You shouldn’t-”, you try to tell him, to warn him about Silas, but he cuts you off.

“I heard that you got engaged today”, the man says slowly and looks down at your ring. “I guess that I have to say ‘congratulations’.”

“Yeah … thanks …”, you mumble dreadfully. “But you really should-”

Your sentence is cut off by the man in the chair getting ripped up by a harsh force. You hadn’t heard Silas and his second in command leave the office.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Silas questions and pushes the man away from you. “Do you have a death wish?!”

He signals for his second in command to get rid of the man. Silas sighs heavily, runs his hand through his black hair and sinks down on the same chair he had ripped his worker from. You avoid his eyes.

“Are you okay, little thing?” he asks and you can hear how he’s trying to stay calm. “Why didn’t you tell him to walk the fuck away?”

“I tried”, you mumble. “Twice.”

“He knows better than to talk to you. Seems like you’re even more irresistible now that you have a ring on your finger.” He sighs and rubs your back. “You’re mine, and soon they all will know.”

Days go by. Silas’s second in command takes you to try dresses/suits, but for the most of the time you’re in your bedroom, waiting. Every day takes you closer to your wedding day, that horrifying moment.

And finally, one day, it’s time. Silas’s second in command has taken you to a venue where you’ve gotten your own room to get ready in, but when the time is due for you to walk out and say your vowels, you refuse to come out of the room. There’s nothing you want less than to get married in front of people that you hate. You can’t imagine anything more humiliating.

“Y/N, come on”, the second in command says as he opens the door. “Everyone is waiting!”

“I don’t want to do it!” you burst out, full on panic.

“Silas have spent a lot of time and thought about this for you. He has even invited your family. Would be a shame if they came here for nothing, don’t you think? Don’t you think that they want to see you again? Don’t you want to see them one last time?”

You give the second in command a glare. He walks over and grabs your arm, helping you up on your feet.

“Come on”, he says. “We don’t have all day.”

He’s going to walk you down the aisle to deliver you over to Silas, as planned and try to pull your arm away from the second in command, but his grip on you tightens. The second you get into the venue and see the rows of chairs filled with Silas’s men, his family and your family, you stop, eyes tearing up when seeing your parents. Realization hits you again. You’re not only getting married, you’re also saying goodbye to your old life — a life that you will never get to live again. The second in command drags you past all the guests, over to Silas. You stare at your family, taking them in. Haven’t they changed since last you’ve seen them? Aren’t they looking older? Do they think that you’re different? Do they still recognize you as their little boy/girl? Silently wishing that they would stand up and object to everything happening, you continue your way down the aisle, towards Silas. Surely they have to understand that you’re not doing this by your own will? You would rather be at home with them.

You feel how the second in command moves you over to Silas. The ceremony seem to go by in a fuzzy daze. Words are being said but you're not sure who says them. You're brought back to reality when you hear Silas say ‘I do’. Your first instinct is to pull yourself away from him, but he doesn't let you.

“Your turn, Y/N”, he whispers with a tilted smile. “Tell everyone how you're giving yourself to me.”

Time seems to have stopped. You look out over the audience, at your poor family. They look nauseous. You wonder what kind of threats they have been told to keep them silent in their seats.

And you notice someone else — someone you never thought Silas would invite. Ares. You know that he hates his little brother with all his might, why would he invite him to his wedding? The day that's supposed to be his best day ever. You guess that the older couple by him are Silas's and Ares's parents. You have never met them before, but it's clear who Silas’s has gotten his face from. He's a spitting image of his father. Ares resembles their mother more.

Silas opens up his blazer to show you a gun, which you don't have to doubt is loaded.

“If you — or anyone — tries to object in this marriage, Y/N”, he starts with a dark voice, dangerously close to your face to make sure that no one will hear, “they'll die. Do you understand that?”

You nod unnoticeably, too mortified to do anything else. You understand him very well, and you believe him.

“You better say ‘I do’”, he whispers, voice even darker. “You belong to me. You are mine. Do not ever forget that.”

“Promise me that they won't get hurt”, you whisper as quietly as you can.

He takes your hand.

“I promise”, he says and kisses your knuckles harshly. “Say it.”

You clear your throat to make sure everyone will hear you, so that you don't have to repeat yourself. Giving yourself to this man once is enough.

“I do”, you say.

Everyone but your family and Ares claps. You're puzzled by the look on Silas's parents faces, as if they're not happy but still want to support their son. The rest of the cheering guests wear bright smiles, happy for their boss. You don't dare look at your family.

A new, bigger and more flashy ring gets placed on your finger and you put Silas’s new ring on his with shaking hands. You try to pull the collar of your clothing to the side, to be able to breathe.

You've kissed Silas’s before, but never like this. Never in front of so many people. You don't have time to think before his lips are on yours and you accept it, knowing that you've already signed your life away, refusing to kiss him won't change a thing.

The afterparty goes on without you. You don’t want to see everyone celebrating you when you never want this in the first place. You are allowed to go back to the room where you had gotten ready and sit in your solitude. You can’t help the tears running down your cheeks in silence. What have you done? Could you have done something differently? No, you couldn't. If you did, your family would get hurt. Instead, you’ve trapped yourself in a venomous spider’s trap.

You hear the door open and hurry to wipe your tears.

“Uh … hi”, a familiar voice says.

You turn to watch Ares close the door behind him. You freeze. If Silas finds him here, your wedding will be even worse … and frankly, after everything Ares have done to you, you don’t want to be alone with him either. You stand up and try to leave the room, but he stops you.

“Wait, let me talk to you”, he says.

“Don’t touch me”, you hiss.

He pulls his hand back and sighs.

“It shouldn’t be you and Silas”, he says in defeat. “You didn’t want to marry him, I saw that. We can run away now and you’ll never have to see him again.”

The proposition alone makes you scoff.

“And why would I want to go anywhere with you?” you spit angrily. “You’re as sick as Silas! I don’t want anything to do with any of you. It’s bad enough that I’m stuck with one … I don’t need the other. Leave.”

Ares twitches his black eyebrows and pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Alright then. Guess I’ll have to force you with me.”

“If you touch me I will scream.”

He gives you a glance as if he’s weighing the outcomes. In a quick motion, he grabs you, trying to pull you over his shoulder. You scream and hit him, causing enough commotion for the door to swing open and for Ares to be ripped off of you. Your vision is blocked by someone dressed in black.

“Get the fuck away before I kill you”, you hear the man in front of you say. “I mean it.”

You expected it to be Silas, but it’s his second in command.

“Touch my boss’ wife/husband again and I’m breaking your neck”, he warns and rolls up his sleeve.

“Why don’t you get the fuck away and let me do what I want to do, hm?” Ares responds harshly.

“You’re really asking for it, aren’t you? This is a wedding, don’t be stupid like usual, Ares.”

“I’m stupid? Have you seen my brother?!”

“Leave, Ares. I don’t want to cause your parents any more pain.”

“What’s going on?”

Silas’s voice makes you want to crawl into a hole and never come out again.

“What have you done, Ares?” Silas asks coldly.

“You’re just going to assume that I’ve done something, huh?” Ares growls.

“Why would my man waste time talking with you unless you’ve done something completely idiotic?”

“I heard Y/N scream and found Ares trying to kidnap them”, the second in command says and reaches back a hand to make sure that you’re still there, or to console you.

Silas turns his face towards his brother, his black eyes burning with anger. Before Ares has time to defend himself or throw an insult, Silas has hit him. Hard. You watch how blood seeps from his nose.

“Don’t think that you can ever try to take them from me”, he warns. “They’re mine. See the ring on their finger? Belong to me. I have all the legal rights to say that now. Don’t fucking think a thing.”

Silas puts his arm around your shoulders.

“The only one that gets to touch them is me, so put your greasy little hands away before I cut them off and force you to eat them”, Silas warns him coldly. He turns to his second in command. “Let’s go home, I don’t want to sabotage the after party.”

You’re pulled along out to Silas’s car.

“I should have known that this wedding would have drama”, the second in command sighs. “Why did you even invite Ares from the start?”

“Because I wanted him to see Y/N giving themself to me”, Silas smirks. “To annoy him.”

“You’re supposed to be older than him.”

“Oh shut up, let me have some fun.” He turns to you, growing softer. “Are you okay, little thing? Did he hurt you?”

You shake your head. If anything, you hurt him when clawing at him.

“Good”, Silas smiles and caresses your cheek. “Let’s go home.”

In the car, he takes your hand, inspecting the ring with a cocky smile.

“Now you're officially mine”, he whispered, looking at you with intense, dark eyes. “Forever. And there's nothing you can do to separate us.”

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